Facing the Abyss
by bionic4ever
Summary: COMPLETE! Jaime awakens from her coma and struggles to regain her memory and self-sufficiency. How will Oscar arrange for her to resume a normal life, when the world believes she is dead? Can Steve help her, when she doesn't even remember him?
1. Chapter 1

**FACING THE ABYSS**

Chapter One

Jaime couldn't feel the grass between her toes...but she could still sense it. When she was a little girl, crunching the bright green blades underfoot had made her feel giddy and alive. Today, standing in this spot, the grass gave her a creepy, eerie sensation that shivered through her entire body.

She'd been in this exact spot hundreds of times in the past. Her father's grave was to her left and her mother's grave to her right. Jaime gripped the two traditional bouquets of yellow roses tightly in her left hand, unable to move as her mind whirled in a kaleidoscope of confusion. The ground beneath her was different than the patches of grass and earth that surrounded it. The soil had been recently disturbed, pressed firmly back into place and then sodded over as though nothing had ever happened there. Even the groove in the plot where a tombstone would go had been carefully filled in with barely a dent remaining.

Jaime laughed bitterly; they'd certainly done a good job. They'd made it look so 'normal' again, when she now knew it was anything but normal. How 'normal' can you feel (she wondered to herself) when you're standing on your own grave?

* * *

It was a deception with only the best of intentions. Jaime herself was at the center of it all, but she'd been one of the last to find out the true nature of what had happened – and had played absolutely no role in what had become a carefully planned government charade.

She hadn't been aware of the beginning. How could she have known? She was dead. Rudy Wells stepped away from the table with one last look at his patient. He and his team had tried diligently to save her, but even the very best science and medicine combined could not overcome a massive cerebral hemorrhage. She'd really never had a chance. Jaime's body had rejected her bionic implants (something they had never seen coming) and the result had been catastrophic. Blood clots had formed in her brain and the intense pressure had ruptured multiple blood vessels. Unwilling to accept defeat, Rudy had doggedly kept trying until the line on the monitor went flat. Even then, it broke his heart to walk away; he had made her bionic, given her a new life, and Jaime had become as close to him as the daughter he'd never had.

Oscar Goldman followed Rudy into the hallway. The head of the OSI knew they needed to give Steve some time to say a private goodbye to Jaime. "You did the best you could," he told the crestfallen doctor, "the best anyone could."

Rudy shook his head. "It wasn't enough." He leaned wearily against the wall and wiped a hand across his forehead. "I should have seen this coming. I should have -"

"There was nothing you could have done," Oscar insisted. He placed a hand gently on his friend's should, intending to say more, when they were interrupted by a breathless young man who'd just come running down the hallway from the opposite direction.

"I was in the operating theater," Michael Marchetti (Rudy's young protege) said urgently. "I saw what happened. Rudy, I think I can save her..."

Thus, it began. Michael convinced Rudy and Oscar to let him try his newly developed cryogenic techniques in an effort to save Jaime. While they had only been tested on monkeys until that moment, as Michael pointed out, Jaime was dead. She had nothing left to lose. The doctors turned to rush back to the OR just as a bereft Steve was coming out of the other exit.

"Better tell Steve," Rudy said to Oscar before disappearing through the big double doors.

Oscar stood his ground and thought it over. Steve was already gone, disappeared through another doorway with tears in his eyes that begged for some solitary time to grieve. He and Jaime had grown up together, found each other again as adults and fallen in love. The wedding was only weeks away – and now...this. Oscar knew he should tell his bereaved friend something – but what? Should he offer condolences – or hope? What if Rudy and Michael's procedure failed, and Steve's hopes had been raised only to be cruelly dashed as he lost her once again? No, it was better to wait, at least for now, Oscar decided. Resolutely, he turned toward the doors of the operating room's theater to await the outcome of this new round of surgery.

Steve was alone in a small alcove, unsure where to go or exactly what to do with himself. He had finally found a meaning to his life (other than the James Bond-like existence that government service had thrust upon him) and now it was simply...gone. It had been many years since he'd last allowed himself to cry – or even felt the need – but now, alone with a pain that seemed insurmountable, the tears flowed freely and silently down his face. Maybe, he reflected, he'd always been destined to be alone...

Back in the operating room, things were moving at a rapid (but very careful) pace. The room itself had been cooled to a near-freezing temperature and Rudy and Michael's teams struggled to keep feeling in the hands that labored to bring the young woman on the table back to life. Michael and his team kept Jaime's body cooled with his cryogenic techniques, hoping to ward off any cellular damage, while Rudy and his team painstakingly repaired the ruptured blood vessels in Jaime's brain. Finally, they were ready. She'd been gone for several hours; would it work? They all held their breath as the paddles were placed on Jaime's chest. Nothing. They tried again; still no response. Had they taken too long? Rudy adjusted the settings for one last try...and the steady flat line of the oscilloscope jumped! Then it jumped again – straight into a weak but steady rhythm! They'd done it; Jaime was back!

There was no time for celebration. Jaime was alive, but she was far from stable. They quickly closed the incision and transferred her to a private room with a nurse at her bedside and a guard posted at the end of the hallway who'd been instructed to let no one enter without authorization from Rudy Wells or Oscar Goldman. Two hours later, when Rudy and Michael had done everything they could for the moment, they met with Oscar in Rudy's office.

"Where's Steve?" Rudy asked quietly.

"I...didn't tell him," Oscar admitted. "We didn't know how this would turn out, and he's already been through hell. To have to watch her die all over again...it would just be too much."

Rudy nodded. "You did the right thing. Jaime's condition is still extremely critical. If she does survive, and that's IF, there may be brain damage -"

"Hopefully, we were able to prevent any further damage," Michael interjected, "but right now it's just impossible to tell. We'll know more when she wakes up."

"If she wakes up," Rudy said gently.

"Then it's best we don't tell Steve any of this," Oscar concluded. "At least until we know more." It pained him deeply to even suggest keeping Jaime's revival from her fiance, but the last thing Oscar wanted to do was make Steve's pain any deeper.

"He'd want to be with her," Michael suggested. "I think we should tell him."

"Maybe," Rudy allowed, "but not just yet. Let's see what the next twenty-four hours bring, in terms of her condition; then we'll decide."

Michael fell silent. There was really nothing more he could say. His two superiors knew Steve (and Jaime) far better than he did. Perhaps they were right.

* * *

Twenty-four hours turned to forty-eight...and seventy-two...and still the doctors saw no improvement in Jaime's condition. She was deeply comatose, with very little appreciable brain activity.

"Steve would want to be here," Michael persisted, pleading his case solely to Oscar this time while Rudy was attending to their patient. "When Jaime does wake up, she'll be confused – frightened – she's going to need him."

"Rudy says she may wake up a vegetable – or not wake up at all!" Oscar reminded him.

"That's worst-case scenario," Michael argued. "We can't let ourselves allow the possibility -"

"We have to prepare for the possibility," Oscar sighed. "Besides, Steve is out of the country; he left last night for an assignment in China."

"But the funeral is in two days – and Jaime is alive!" Michael couldn't fathom how they'd planned to pull this off. "Don't you think it's a poor time to send her fiance clear across the globe?"

Oscar stood up from the chair and rose to his full height. "Are you questioning my judgment? Or Rudy's?"

"Of course not," Michael told him. "I'm just giving you my opinion – as the person who brought Jaime back – and I'm wondering what kind of funeral you can have when there's no body! Her family, her friends...they're grieving, Oscar – and Jaime is alive! How can you tell me that's the right thing to do?"

"Rudy and I are still working on the details," Oscar allowed. "We'll finalize everything today. But the science and the medicine that brought Jaime back are Top Secret, Michael; you know that. We can't just blithely announce to the world they 'Hey, we made a mistake; Jaime is really alive' when for all we know she may not be tomorrow! And that sort of announcement would expose what killed her – a reaction to her bionics! Bionics, Michael! Do you know what would happen if that became common knowledge?"

Rudy cleared his throat, having silently witnessed most of the argument from the doorway. Michael, outnumbered once again, sighed and sank into a chair. The deception was about to hit full-stride.

* * * * *


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

Oscar and his assistant, Russ, flew to Ojai the morning of Jaime's funeral, while Rudy and Michael stayed behind to care for their (very much alive but still clinging to a thread) patient. For Oscar, the service was a surreal experience. They'd kept it as small and private as possible, but the little chapel was still filled to the doors with people wanting to pay their last respects.

Jim and Helen Elgin, Jaime's legal guardians (since her parents had died when she was 16), knew about her bionics, so they also knew the full story of what had 'killed' her. Everyone else was told what the newspaper obituary had said: that Jaime had perished as a result of complications from injuries suffered during a skydiving accident. (Well, Oscar reasoned, it was almost the truth.) Steve was said to be too distraught to attend.

Jim Elgin was pale and solemn, supporting his wife with both of his arms as she appeared near-collapse in her grief. Oscar had to truly fight with his conscience, since he was the only person with the authority to stand up and end their suffering – except...he couldn't. It was a matter of national security! If the existence of bionics was exposed both Jaime and Steve (and Rudy, for that matter) would have permanent targets on their backs everywhere they went, potential victims of any Tom, Dick or Harry who might see them as the path to riches. Even worse, they could be used by anyone with evil intentions to form an army of cyborgs; Oscar couldn't begin to contemplate the destruction that would result if that were to happen. (And Jaime or Steve being dissected for that knowledge to be obtained was a thought he simply couldn't bear.) No, in spite of his desire to ease the collective, intense suffering in the little chapel, Oscar knew the secret must be kept.

The coffin, of course, was closed. A phony death certificate had been submitted to the funeral home (as well as the newspapers), and the coffin delivered to the chapel had been carefully weighted to exactly duplicate the heft of a young woman's body.

Seeing the grave gnawed away at Oscar's conscience, as well. The plot between her parents had always been intended for Jaime and when the deception was planned, Oscar and Rudy reasoned that if Jaime did not survive her current condition, she could later be quietly buried in the plot that was now marked with her name by a simple but beautiful headstone. Still, watching the coffin as it was lowered into the earth was almost more than Oscar could stand. His shoulders were broad and the years spent leading his agency had toughened him, but this responsibility was heavier than any he'd ever been called upon (or chosen) to bear.

* * *

Back at Rudy's California complex, it looked as though that plot might be needed, after all. At virtually the same moment that her empty coffin was being lowered into place, Jaime flat-lined. When Oscar returned from the service, she had been revived once again – and both doctors were hovering protectively at her bedside.

"We almost lost her," Rudy intoned without looking away from his patient.

"It was too close," Michael agreed. "But at least she's stable...for now."

Oscar took a seat by the window and the three men kept a vigil through the rest of the night. In the morning, even though Jaime wouldn't have been able to hear them, they reconvened in Rudy's office to discuss what would happen next.

"Steve will be back in the States tomorrow," Oscar told them. "He'll be meeting me at the Los Angeles office. I'd like to give him some time off, but he'll have to stop here for a post-assignment physical first, just to see how he's holding up. We have to make sure he doesn't accidentally run into Jaime. Unless, of course, she's well enough for us to tell him the truth."

"Not even close," Rudy responded, shaking his head. "We're trying to spare him the pain of losing her – and keeping her alive is just not a certainty. Not yet."

"If that's your decision, then we'll have to move her," Michael added. He'd given up trying to talk them out of the deception; it was too late now. "We could take her to Colorado Springs."

"And explain our absence here...how?" Rudy queried. "Besides, she's nowhere near strong enough to make the trip." He thought quietly for a moment. "There's a separate research wing on the far side of the complex," he continued, "about as far as you can get from our labs and still be on-site. It has a couple of private rooms and should be easy enough to guard. We'll move Jaime there first thing tomorrow morning, when she's had a little more time to rest."

* * *

Steve stared zombie-like out the window of the cargo plane that was carrying him home from China. Home – that sounded bitterly ironic now. Home had always meant Ojai...and Jaime. Truth be told, he was almost grateful for the mission that had kept him from Jaime's funeral. He'd spent the days immediately following her death with his parents, the three of them bearing each other up as best they could. The service itself, he thought, would have been beyond his ability to cope...or even to absorb. How could he watch them bury her? Would his attendance have brought Jaime back? Of course not, Steve reasoned, and the sight of him trying to cope with the unbearable would've likely been too much for his mother. No, it was best that he'd been sent away - and yet he felt resentful because the decision hadn't been his to make.

He'd plodded his way through the mission solely on auto-pilot. He'd 'saved the world' so many times over that (luckily for him) he could perform what was required of him without much effort or thought. Now that Jaime was gone, Steve mused to himself, he truly had become the government's machine...its most deadly weapon.

* * *

"How are you doing, Steve?" Rudy asked gently. Michael was on the other side of the complex with Jaime. Oscar – who had no explainable reason to be there – had stayed back at his L.A. office.

"I'm...alright."

"And I don't even 'almost' believe you," the doctor said, leading him to the examining table. He could see that Steve was in decent shape physically. Rudy's worries were with what might lie deeper inside his patient and friend. "How are you feeling – really?"

"Really?" Steve countered. "I haven't let myself think about that yet. I just...can't."

"You need to."

"What I need is to stay busy – to work. After all, that's what you gave me this wonderful 'gift' for...isn't it?"

Rudy raised an eyebrow. "What you need is time to absorb everything that's happened, time to grieve. Oscar tells me he's given you some time off."

"Yeah, well, I don't want it."

Rudy sighed inwardly. It was like ramming his head into a concrete pillar. Steve was unmoving and appeared unmoved – mostly because he was putting all of his energy into staying that way. Rudy had to put all of his own energy into not telling the truth; spilling it now would only hurt Steve more. Although Michael still remained hopeful, in his heart of hearts (although he still wished that she would rally), Rudy was not expecting Jaime to live.

* * *

What had at first been daily meetings between Rudy, Oscar and Michael soon stretched to phone conferences and weekly meetings instead. No one had expected things to drag on for any length of time. Either Jaime would come back to them or she would die...except, Jaime did neither. Several times, her brain wave activity showed a slight increase and her doctors joyfully prepared for an awakening that didn't come, only to watch their patient slide back deeper into her coma. On four more occasions, she flat-lined – simply drifted away – and each time it was harder than the last to bring her back again. Each time, they wondered separately if they had done the right thing, or if they were merely prolonging the inevitable. They reasoned that she had struggled so hard to stay alive (and they'd all fought so hard to make sure that she did) that they just didn't have the heart to let her go without a fight.

Their most fervent hope, as they closed their eyes for a few hours of sleep, was that Jaime would wake up able to resume the life she'd lived before. Then, they were determined, they would find some way to dig out of the deception they'd been keeping up for too long with no hard feelings on anyone's part and total acceptance all around. In short, they were looking for a miracle. They had no idea that when their wish finally came true, the deception would prove even more intricate and difficult to maintain. There was no way they could know that Steve would find Jaime...less than twenty-four hours after she'd finally opened her eyes.

* * * * *


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

It happened when no one was expecting it, not even Jaime's doctor's. Oscar was hundreds of miles away, seeing Steve off on the start of a new assignment. Rudy was in his lab and Michael was sitting in a chair by the door, just inside Jaime's room, making his latest notes on her chart. He had examined her thoroughly less than an hour earlier, and there had been no change – absolutely no response. He had just about finished his notes when he heard the slightest rustling noise coming from Jaime's bed. He looked up – and she was staring right back at him!

"Hi Jaime," he said softly, rising to his feet. "Welcome back." Jaime didn't answer. Her eyes were wide...and full of fear. He moved toward the bed slowly, not wanting to startle her further. Her face held no recognition, but this in itself was not worrying. Up until a couple of months ago, Michael had been one of many of Rudy's young proteges and assistants; maybe Jaime just didn't recognize him. "I'm Michael Marchetti," he told her gently. "I'm one of your doctors."

There was no response, other than a blank, terror-filled stare that seemed to blaze right through him. Michael's heart sank. Was she blind? He moved purposefully to the other side of her bed and was relieved that Jaime turned her head – just slightly – as he did so, looking up at him with voiceless confusion. Well (he told himself), at least she can see. Can she hear?

Michael set his metal clipboard on the bedside table with just enough force to make it clatter lightly. Jaime blinked and shuddered, glancing at the table and then back up at him. A single tear pearled in Jaime's eye and drifted silently down her cheek. She opened her mouth as though trying to say something...but no sound came out. Still silent (and terrified), she closed her eyes and drifted into a restless sleep.

* * *

Michael called for a nurse to sit with Jaime and instructed her to notify him immediately if there was any change, then he headed down to the lab to find Rudy, to tell him the good news...and the bad.

"She has at least some sight and some hearing – how much, I'm not sure – and that's about all I can tell you," Michael explained to his mentor.

"She didn't know you at all?" Rudy queried.

"Rudy, I'm not sure if she knew where she was – or even who she was!"

"I'll let Oscar know, as soon as he's back," Rudy sighed. "For now, let's go take a closer look at our patient."

There was really nothing more the doctors could learn until Jaime was awake again. They waited patiently, turning on only the small light over her bed when nighttime came – enough light to be able to see her, but not enough to hurt her eyes if there was some sort of problem there. Finally, a few minutes before midnight, Jaime stirred.

"Hi," Rudy said, smiling broadly at her. When there was no reply (and seemingly no recognition), his smile disappeared and he approached the bed. "Jaime, do you know where you are?" he asked quietly. Almost a minute went by before Jaime shook her head – just once. Rudy was alarmed by Jaime's blank, fright-filled gaze, and he bent down for a closer look, directly into her eyes. "Honey," he began in his most gentle voice, "do you know who I am?" Once again, Jaime shook her head. "I'm Rudy – Rudy Wells; I'm your doctor," he told her.

The only reply was a strong, steady stream of tears that began to flow down Jaime's cheeks. The doctors both saw her look with panic at her right arm before brushing some of the tears away with her left. Her eyes moved rapidly from her arm to their faces then down to her legs. Clearly, she couldn't move her bionic limbs.

They had seen enough – and Jaime had been through enough – for one day. Before her panic could rise any further, Michael drew closer to the bed and removed the sedative he'd carried in his coat pocket. Before she even saw the needle, he'd injected the contents into Jaime's left arm. "We'll talk more tomorrow," he told her...but Jaime's eyelids were already fluttering. Very soon, she was fast asleep.

* * *

When Jaime woke up the next morning, she longed to be anywhere other than where she was; if only she'd had the words to voice that! There were words in her head – plenty of them – but they seemed to be getting lost somewhere between her brain and her vocal cords. The words swirled aimlessly, forming partial pictures like a broken kaleidoscope and none of it made any sense.

She knew her name was 'Jaime' – but only because the man in the white lab coat who'd called himself Michael had said 'Hi, Jaime'. He and the other man in a lab coat ('Rudy') had told her they were doctors, so she assumed she was in some kind of hospital – but where? And why – what had happened to her? Her right arm and her legs were like solid, unmoving lumps of lead; they had no feeling and she couldn't move them. For that matter, she couldn't even feel them! There was so much she didn't understand, and although the questions formed rapid-fire in her mind she found she had no ability to voice them.

Michael was beside her bed when she opened her eyes. (Had he been there all night?) He smiled in that bedside-manner sort of way that doctors must learn in their first year of med school. "Good morning," he said evenly. "Can you tell me your name?"

Her mouth opened and closed several times before she could finally voice the single word (and it came out in a frightening sort of croaky whisper): "Jaime."

Michael's smile turned genuine. "That's wonderful," he told her. "Today, I'm going to help you start moving your hand and arm a little bit. Does that sound okay?" Jaime stared at him mutely. "I'd imagine this is all pretty scary for you," he continued, "but I think you'll feel a whole lot better once we get you moving again."

Jaime couldn't quite believe what she was hearing. Was he for real? For a doctor, he sure wasn't too bright! Hadn't he noticed that she _couldn't move_?

Michael took a pen from the pocket of his lab coat and laid it on the bed, just out of reach of Jaime's right hand. "Try and picture in your mind that your hand is picking up the pen," he instructed. Don't think about it too hard, though; just imagine that it's already a done deal...and then do it."

It seemed like a million fragmented arguments were battling in Jaime's head, but her tongue remained as immobile as her limbs.

"You're not paralyzed," Michael persisted. "Yes, it's artificial – but you _can_ move it. You just have to try."

_You move it, Buddy_, Jaime grumbled silently. She closed her eyes because it was the only way she had to blot out what was happening to her. Before she knew it, she drifted off into the black void of a dreamless sleep.

* * *

Rudy and Michael were having an already grim meeting in Rudy's office when the phone rang...and their problems multiplied right off the charts. It was Russ; Oscar had radioed ahead to say that Steve's legs had been badly damaged during his mission. He was bringing Steve to the complex by chopper – and they'd be arriving at any minute.

Jaime had been moved from the far wing back to the more spacious room that was closer to the lab and their offices; there was no time to move her again now. Rudy barely had time to prepare the operating room to receive his new patient before the chopper landed on the roof and Steve was wheeled into the building.

Steve was groggy but still partially conscious. They wheeled him quickly toward the elevator...but not quickly enough. As the gurney rattled down the hall and past Jaime's room, Rudy cursed to himself when he saw the nurse had apparently not received the message to close Jaime's door. It was too late now. Steve's head turned to the side at exactly the wrong moment and he caught a glimpse of what no one wanted him to see. As they wheeled him into the waiting elevator, he fought through the pain and fogginess to utter one single word:

"_Jaime..."_

* * * * *


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

"_Now_ we have a problem," Rudy grumbled (stating the obvious). Steve's surgery had gone smoothly. Steve's legs had been badly damaged but Rudy was able to make the needed repairs. He'd feared the limbs might need to be replaced, but that hadn't proven necessary. Steve's legs would be weak for awhile though, and he would need therapy and exercise to strengthen them again – therapy provided by a doctor who was also attending to another patient that Steve was not intended to discover.

"I think it's time to tell him," Michael put in. "I know I'm not his doctor, but I _am_ Jaime's. It would be in both of their best interests; they could help each other recover."

Rudy shook his head. "We still don't know just how much 'recovery' will be possible for Jaime. When we do tell Steve she's alive, we need to be able to give him facts – not suppositions and false hopes."

"I agree," Oscar added. "Can we convince him he was delirious from his injury, that he never really saw her at all?"

"We can try," Rudy supposed. "But if he even suspects he really saw Jaime, you know as well as I do that he'll go to the ends of the earth to find her."

"Maybe you could sedate him for a few days," Oscar went on, "and then -"

"I will not give any patient of mine unnecessary medication," Rudy stated flatly. "That's going too far – especially in Steve's weakened condition."

Oscar thought for a moment. "Well, then maybe we can tell him he was sedated for a few days – even though he wasn't – and that he was delirious."

"It's the best we can do for now. We have no other choices," Rudy reminded them. "I'm treating both Steve and Jaime, so we can't transfer either one of them. We just have to make sure we keep them as far apart as possible. He _will_ have to be told eventually, though – and I just don't know the right way to handle that."

* * *

Jaime, meanwhile had taken another step forward (in terms of progress) and then a giant leap back. She'd awakened early that morning - a regular sleep/wake cycle was an excellent sign – but when she saw Michael was in the room, she immediately closed her eyes. Michael noticed, and correctly assessed that it was her way of trying not to deal with the situation that so was so obviously terrorizing her. Still, she _had_ to deal with it; avoidance would only multiply her issues. He stepped quietly into the hallway, standing where he could still see Jaime clearly but unless she sat up in bed and turned her body sharply, she'd be unable to see him. There, he waited.

Soon enough, her eyes opened once again. She started to pull herself up in bed, staring bitterly at her 'useless' legs...when her nose began to twitch. Even for Jaime (feeling as she did), it was the most natural thing in the world reach up and scratch the itch..._with her right hand_. In the hallway, Michael held his breath. This could be the breakthrough they'd been hoping for!

He watched as Jaime slowly raised both hands in front of her face, seemingly comparing one to the other. He gave her a few private minutes to think about things before stepping back into the room. "Pretty good workmanship, huh?" he said lightly. Jaime just started at him, but her eyes were softer now, less frightened. "Can you tell me your name?" he probed.

"Jaime."

"Jaime...what?"

She'd only known her first name because the doctors had used it. Now she was drawing a blank.

"Sommers," Michael prompted.

"Jaime...Sommers," she repeated, trying it on for size.

Michael pulled a chair close to the bed and gave Jaime a watered-down version of what was happening to her. He told her she'd been very ill, but they would take all the time she needed to make sure she got back on her feet – both literally and figuratively. He made no mention of bionics or even artificial limbs, hoping she would ask the questions herself when she was ready. Time would tell them how Jaime's body was recovering; Jaime herself would have to tell them the rest.

* * *

Steve knew he was not crazy – and he was not hallucinating. He knew what (or rather who) he had seen. Rudy told him he'd been under heavy sedation and Oscar insisted he'd been delirious for days. Whether that was true or not, Steve was certain that he'd seen her; he would not be dissuaded. He sank resignedly back onto his pillow, pretending to accept their explanation, but his heart knew differently and he resolved that as soon as he was on his feet again, he'd have to seek out the truth – and _Jaime_ – for himself.

* * *

There was no thought of Oscar's returning to DC – not while both of his top agents were hospitalized and there was an elaborate deception to maintain in order to keep them apart. Steve's condition was improving rapidly, Rudy told Oscar the next morning; he'd be out of bed (albeit in a wheelchair) within a couple of days.

Jaime, on the other hand, was progressing steadily...but much more slowly. While her condition had been upgraded to 'serious', her vital signs were all over the place and her latest brain scan showed that the majority of her brain cells were still not fully 'awake'. Rudy had to be honest and admit that he wasn't sure just how much improvement she was capable of, but they'd continue testing her just as much as her condition would allow.

"So the good news," Rudy concluded, "is that – barring any further complications, we do expect her to survive. The bad news...is that we just can't say yet what sort of life she'll be able to lead."

"What is she able to do, at this point?" Oscar asked.

"She wriggled her toes for us this morning and has been able to move her arm and her hand, but trying to walk is still a long way off. She can talk, and she seems to be retaining what we tell her, but her verbalization is very limited and as to her mental capacity...we just don't know. I wish I could tell you more, but -"

"I understand," Oscar told him. The deception would have to continue – at least until they had something concrete to tell Steve. (And after they _did_ tell him, what would they tell the rest of the world?)

* * *

Steve's fierce determination had him demanding to be allowed up and out of bed that very same evening. "Maybe tomorrow – in a wheelchair," Rudy speculated.

"No maybes, Rudy," Steve insisted. "I'll let this drop for now, but only if you promise that tomorrow I can get out of this room. I need fresh air! Otherwise -"

"First thing after breakfast," Rudy promised.

Steve held him to it, wolfing down oatmeal and draining the glass of juice before Rudy could return with the promised wheelchair. The doctor took his patient on a leisurely stroll across the grounds of the complex and when Rudy finally had to head back inside (he had another patient to attend to, although he didn't tell Steve that), Steve begged to be left where he was.

"I haven't felt the sunshine in days," he pleaded. "I can find my own way back in."

"Alright," Rudy agreed, patting him on the shoulder before heading back.

Steve breathed in deeply, savoring the fresh air as he looked all around him. Down the hill, outside of the complex, was a tennis court...which only served to draw his mind back to a place his heart had never left. Slowly, he wheeled around until he faced the main hospital and his well-practiced eye scanned the building top to bottom. It was huge...and sprawling. If Jaime was still here, (because he had no doubt that he'd seen her), how would he even begin to look for her?

Then, just as if fate had intended it that way, his eye stopped to rest on one single window, high up on the left side of the main complex. He focused in idly...then almost fell out of his chair.

_Jaime!_

As fast as his left hand could keep up with his right, he wheeled himself into the building, barreling straight past the guard and into the elevator. The wheelchair was nearly burning rubber as he turned the corner into the room he'd seen through the window. His emotions were running at such a peak that he could barely breathe as he turned toward the bed to see...a stranger. Bewildered now, he mumbled an apology and headed dejectedly back to his own room. Maybe they'd been right all along; maybe he really _was_ hallucinating. No! He'd seen her – twice now – and he _knew_ it. Something strange was going on, but he would figure it out...and he _would_ find Jaime!

* * *

Just down the hall, behind a locked door, Jaime lay on a gurney. She had been heavily sedated since her tests the previous evening and thus had no idea of the sudden way she'd been taken from her bed and whisked down the hallway. The stranger who'd taken her place was moved back to where she'd come from and Jaime was returned to her own room, still sound asleep and blissfully unaware of a deception that was becoming harder to maintain every day.

* * * * * 


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Jaime drifted in and out of consciousness (and sedation) for the next couple of days. When she was awake, her frustration and fear were evident in her eyes and in the tone of the few words she managed to voice. There was so much she wanted to say – things she needed to ask – but the words were lost in a short circuit somewhere between her mind and her lips. The most she could do was parrot the few words that were fed to her by the doctors.

She was remembering everything they told her. When Oscar stopped in to see her in person, Rudy told her his name – and she was able to successfully recall it later when they showed her a picture. Independent sentences were still beyond her grasp, and although she was feeling and fully experiencing everything around her, Rudy and Michael had no way of knowing if she was even capable of independent thought. They proceeded with extreme caution, asking her only a handful of questions – her name, their names, where she was. They waited and hoped that very soon she might ask a question or two of her own.

It turned out to be a case of _Be careful what you wish for..._

* * *

Steve was anxious to regain his full strength as quickly as possible, so he was out of the wheelchair, walking – and demanding to run – within days. Rudy patiently explained that pushing too hard too soon could only cause a set-back, but he did concede to let Steve try jogging around the track behind the complex. (Jaime's room was still in the front of the complex, in Quadrant Two, and since his run-in with the stranger Steve had made no more attempts to try and find her.)

When he tried to break into a run – eager to test his limits – Rudy stepped onto the track, directly in his path, and stopped him. "I think that's enough for today," the doc said firmly.

"But I was just getting started!"

"It's almost dinnertime," Rudy countered. Steve sighed and followed his doctor back inside.

That night, in spite of his efforts to push away all thoughts but those of recovery, Steve dreamed of Jaime. Once again, his mind replayed seeing her from the hallway when he was semi-conscious – and in her bed when he'd been outside in his wheelchair. He saw the scenes over and over, rapid-fire, until he woke in the morning with new determination. What if he hadn't been seeing things, the way everyone kept telling him he had? Steve needed to know for certain.

Without stopping to seek permission, Steve rose and put on his jogging suit. He walked briskly past the front desk, telling the receptionist that he'd slept so well and felt so good that he was going to take a quick jog before breakfast. Unaware of any deception (she had no need to know), she simply nodded and watched him as he started off on his way.

A few minutes later, Oscar arrived to check on his agents and found that Steve's room was empty. He knew Michael and Rudy were in the lab, so he checked with the nurses and then finally with the receptionist, who told him that Colonel Austin had gone for a morning jog...in the direction of Quadrant Two.

Oscar practically ripped the phone from its cradle to notify Security. Jaime would need to be transferred immediately, back to the smaller room in Quadrant Four where they'd 'hidden' her once before.

Steve had almost made it to Quadrant Two when his leg stiffened (from pushing it too hard, just as Rudy had warned it might). He stopped on the side of the hill to try and work out the kinks...and happened to glance down just as a gurney was being wheeled into a waiting ambulance. Without even thinking about it, he focused in...and the patient on the gurney was _Jaime!_ Her eyes were open and she moved her head slightly to look up at the attendant. Her lips moved just once, and Steve thought he could make out the word 'Why'.

Then, just as suddenly as she'd appeared, she was loaded into the back of the ambulance, the doors closed and it pulled away, heading across the complex on a back road. Steve tried to follow but his legs just couldn't give him any speed. Defeated, he was forced to stand idly and watch the ambulance disappear.

* * *

Painfully (forcing his legs to take every determined stride), Steve made his way to Rudy's office, where he found Oscar and Rudy waiting for him. This time, he knew damn well what he'd seen – and he would not be dissuaded. He grabbed Oscar by his shirt collar, lifted him out of his chair and threatened to send him crashing through the wall if he didn't tell the truth – right _then and there._ Before that day, he'd only glimpsed Jaime lying in her bed, eyes closed. She could've been dead and in some sort of suspended animation for all he knew. But this time was different; Jaime had been awake. He'd seen her _talking_.

Rudy and Oscar exchanged a glance; they both knew that Steve had seen too much. Ready or not, it was time to tell him the truth. Slowly and carefully, Rudy explained that yes, Jaime had been dead – and exactly how she'd been brought back to life. Steve was at first confused and then bitterly angry when he realized that the people he trusted most had been lying to him for months. The atmosphere was tense, the words grew heated. Steve demanded to see Jaime immediately. Rudy protested that she wasn't ready, that they weren't sure yet exactly what sort of shape she was in – emotionally or physically. He had to protect his patient...or rather, _both_ of his patients.

Finally, Steve realized that, while he might not agree with everything Rudy and Oscar had done, their intentions had been good ones (however wrong they might have been). He knew he'd have to calm down and present a rational face if he wanted to have any hope of seeing Jaime. He turned pleadingly from one to the other, asking for a chance for just a few minutes with Jaime...just to say hello.

Rudy glanced at Oscar, who nodded his assent. Finally, after far too much time spent lying to him, they would take Steve to see Jaime.

Steve held his breath as he walked through the door, not quite daring to believe it was actually happening until his eyes confirmed that – yes, Jaime was lying in the bed, mere feet away from him..._alive_. Michael looked up with shock at the unexpected visitor, then closed his clipboard, nodded Steve over to the bed and joined Rudy and Oscar in the doorway.

His heart pounding so hard that he thought he could hear it, Steve nervously approached the bed. Jaime's eyes were closed, so he called her name very softly. He smiled like a schoolboy about to unwrap the biggest, best Christmas gift ever as he waited for her to wake up. He whispered her name again – the name that had never left his heart in the months he'd spent mourning her – and finally, Jaime opened her eyes.

From her pillow, Jaime looked up at her visitor. He seemed so happy to see her; she didn't think she'd ever seen a wider smile. She smiled back tentatively, unsure of exactly how to respond. The man standing beside her bed...was a total stranger to her.

* * *

Steve was beyond devastated (although he tried not to let Jaime see that). Back in the lab, Rudy did his best to explain what had happened. Their latest tests showed that yes, Jaime had the abilities to think, to speak and to retain what they told her – but the time her brain had been without oxygen had taken a catastrophic toll. Her not remembering Steve had confirmed it; Jaime's past memory was totally gone. Bits and pieces of it would hopefully return over time, but there were no guarantees. Although it pained Rudy to say so, he had to tell Steve that trying to remind Jaime of their past together could trigger another attack of the severe pain she'd suffered just before she 'died'. Steve's heart was broken, but he had to agree; they needed to let Jaime's memories return at _her_ pace and not try to rush things. As much as he longed to sweep her into his arms, it wasn't worth endangering her health.

Although he was sure Steve didn't need to be reminded, Oscar had no choice but to speak up next. "You know, Pal," he said gently, "we have to keep this under wraps – at least for the time being. If and when Jaime is able enough to resume a normal life, we'll have to figure out just how to handle that. But for now, even your parents can't know that she's alive."

Thus, a new chapter in the deception was born.

* * * * *


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

Steve found himself an unwilling player in a deception that – up until then – had been directed toward him, as well. He was mobile now; he could walk and even run (for short distances). Yet the love of his life lay in a hospital bed in the very same complex and he couldn't go to her. He knew it was for the best, since the last thing he wanted to do was cause Jaime any sort of pain, but his heart ached for her and grieved for everything that had shared...and lost.

He had agreed (for now) not to tell his parents that Jaime was alive. Was that right? Was it even fair...to them or to him? Who else did he have to lean on? Oscar? Rudy? While it was true that they were his friends, their primary interests had to remain national security (for Oscar) and the security of the bionic program (for Rudy). To Steve, it felt almost as though he was a casualty of war. He had to remind himself constantly that his own pain was necessary for the greater good...and for Jaime's health and safety. So he stuffed his feelings deep down inside and bore that inner agony stoically; really, what other choice did he have?

* * *

While Steve was trying to deal with feelings from the past, everything Jaime experienced was fresh and brand-new. The morning that Rudy and Michael helped her into a wheelchair and wheeled her over to the window, she was able to see outside for the first time since coming out of her coma. The whole world seemed to sparkle with a novel brilliance for her. In her head, she knew the words for what she was looking at...a tree, a bird, a cloud...but it was as though she was seeing these things for the very first time. She was awestruck at the beauty of it all.

She still was unable to voice much of what she was feeling (other than the awful question 'Who are you?' when Steve stood at her bedside), but words were starting to come at least a little more easily. "Outside?" she asked, hoping the doctors would understand.

Michael got it immediately. "How about tomorrow?" he offered. "I'll take you on a walk around the grounds, maybe down by the river."

Jaime nodded and smiled at the handsome young doctor. He always seemed to know exactly what she needed. Michael reached over and opened the window and when the warm Spring breeze tickled Jaime's face, she laughed. The sound was music to her doctors' ears.

* * *

That night, while Steve was dreaming of the wedding that had never taken place, Jaime was having a dream of her own. She was running down a country road next to a quaint old wooden fence...and there was someone beside her, slowing his pace to match her own. Jaime couldn't see his face but she could sense that she'd been happy.

Suddenly, the dream turned dark. Thunder bellowed and lightning crashed as the rain beat down on her face like a million tiny needles. Jaime tossed in her bed and moaned softly, but didn't wake up. She saw herself running, but...what was she running from? Someone was calling her name – a man – was she running from him...or _to_ him? Then the dream turned sharply to black and Jaime's eyes flew open, her heart racing.

She thought about pushing the call button...but what would she tell them? The words were in her head, but she still had no way to voice them. They'd think she was ill, probably pump her full of medicine. No, she decided, she would lie there patiently until sleep found her again. Soon enough, it did – and this time, there were no dreams.

* * *

In the morning, just after breakfast, Michael kept his promise and brought a wheelchair when he came to examine his patient. "Your vital signs are strong," he told Jaime with a smile, "and the nurses tell me you ate well this morning. I'd say you've earned your journey into the world outside." He pushed the wheelchair close to the bed and then took a step back, motioning (with a flourish) to the chair's seat. "Your chariot awaits."

Jaime stared at him, wondering why he wasn't offering his arm to help her move from the bed to the chair. She looked from the wheelchair to Michael with the question (she hoped) showing in her eyes.

"You can do it," he told her. "You don't even have to stand up. Just shift your weight from the edge of the bed down into the seat. I'm right here if you start to fall, but I want you to try."

Jaime shot him a playful pout and scooted herself to the very edge of the bed, swinging her feet to the floor. Her toes were touching the wheels of the chair, but the distance between herself and the seat seemed wider than the Grand Canyon. Michael waited silently, smiling his encouragement at her. Jaime waited too. Maybe if she stalled a little longer, he would give in and help her.

"Do you want to go...or not?" Michael persisted. Jaime sighed and lowered her eyes. That worked about as well as the pout. "The brake is set," he told her. "It won't slide out from under you; I promise." Still, Jaime hesitated. "C'mon...unless you'd rather be stuck in this room all day. And it's awfully nice outside – not a cloud in the sky. Jaime, I know you can do this, or I wouldn't be insisting. I'd never ask you to try anything that might hurt you. So let's go; it's time."

_One...two...three..._ Jaime counted in her mind. Then she rotated her body and used her arms to shift herself down into the waiting chair. She smiled triumphantly up at Michael; she'd done it! Michael clapped his hands and beamed as though she'd just run a marathon – and in many respects, she had.

Jaime felt as excited as a toddler as Michael wheeled her down the hall. She waved at all the nurses, the guard, the receptionist and even the janitor. When he opened the door and wheeled her outside, the effect was startling. When the sun's warmth hit her face and the breeze began to play with her hair, Jaime literally bounced in her seat with the joy of it all. She turned her head to beam up at Michael. "Feels so good!" she exulted.

"It's good to see you so happy," he told her. Their eyes locked for just a moment as they shared a radiant smile.

* * *

Just up the hill from where Michael had taken Jaime, Steve's physical therapy was progressing at a rapid pace. Rudy clocked him at 30 miles per hour before bringing out the measuring stick so they could work on his jump. The results were not encouraging...but it had nothing to do with his legs. As Steve began to psyche himself up to make the jump, he happened to glance down the hill, just in time to see Jaime beaming up at her doctor. While it was wonderful to see her happy again, the sight gave Steve a jolt – straight to his heart. She had a look in her eyes that he remembered well; it was the look he had seen when they were first falling in love.

* * * * *


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

After her first journey outside the hospital walls, Jaime began to progress by bionic-sized leaps and bounds. She still hadn't been told about her bionics (other than the fact that the limbs were artificial) but her doctors knew the time was coming fast. She was able to speak in full sentences now, and to an outsider who didn't know about her brain damage or amnesia, she might have sounded perfectly normal, if just a little bit childlike and naïve. She could stand on her own and walk the distance from her bed to the chair by the window, although Michael had requested that, for the time being, she not do so unless someone was with her.

Rudy and Michael could see that Jaime was beginning to get stir crazy...and bored. Her health was stable enough that they decided to begin showing her a series of photos each day, to see what she could and could not remember. The first afternoon, Rudy handed her a photo of a man, a woman and a young girl who cradled a puppy, surrounded by patches of bright yellow roses.

"Do you know these people?" Rudy inquired.

Jaime shook her head. "No. I don't...think...so..."

"That's okay," Michael assured her, holding up a photo of Oscar.

Jaime grinned. "Easy one," she crowed. "That's Oscar Goldman." While she still didn't know who Oscar was or her own connection to him (aside from the fact that he visited often), Jaime was told his name – and remembered it – the very first time she saw him.

"Very good," Michael said brightly. He held up another photo – this one of the court at Wimbledon.

Jaime stared briefly at it, searching her mind for the word she wanted. "Tennis!" she finally exclaimed.

"That's right," Rudy answered. He handed her one more photo: Steve in his full dress uniform.

Jaime frowned. "That – that's the man who...he was by my bed...that day when I woke up."

"Do you know his name?" Rudy probed.

"Uh-uh. You never told me."

"You're right; we didn't," Michael affirmed, exchanging a worried glance with Rudy. He handed Jaime one last photo, of the main street that ran down the center of Ojai.

Jaime's finger traced the archways that spanned the entire length of the block and then circled the clock tower on the corner. She paused. "It's pretty," she told them. She looked deflated, suspecting she should have said more. "I didn't do too good...did I?"

"You did fine," Michael replied, placing a reassuring arm around her shoulders as Rudy took the photos from her hand. "We'll try some more tomorrow."

"Alright," Jaime agreed. "'Cause I do like looking at them. It's almost like...a puzzle."

Rudy and Michael saw their patient back to her bed and then headed down to the lab to try and figure out how to put more pieces of that puzzle back together.

* * *

Jaime laid back against her pillow and ran each of the photos through her mind's eye again. (She was proving to have a near-photographic memory of everything she was told or shown, absorbing each new detail like a sponge.) The picture of the man in the fancy uniform really bothered her. Why had they shown it to her? What was it that she was supposed to remember?

Images began burning their way into her brain – but not of the uniformed stranger. Jaime began to visualize the awful dream she'd had (for several nights in a row) of running in the rain. This time, the stranger's face flashed through the images, but too rapidly for her to make any sense of it – or to even be sure there was a connection. Then, as suddenly as the images had come, they were replaced by a blinding pain that seared right through her head. Jaime instinctively grabbed her head with both hands and closed her eyes, trying to blot out the agonizing, burning sensation that she thought might rip her skull in two.

Her right arm flailed out and grabbed the bed rail for support. Jaime was helpless to do anything but ride it out and finally the wave of intense, blinding pain receded. She breathed a deep sigh of relief and blinked her eyes a couple of times, then wriggled her toes and held her hands up in front of her face, assuring herself that she was still in one piece and that everything still worked as it should. She reached over for the call button (to let Rudy and Michael know what had happened) when she noticed the bed rail had a dramatic curve to it – exactly where she thought she had grabbed it!

Jaime froze in place, the call button forgotten. The bar had been straight before; she was sure of it. That meant..._she had bent it!_

Awestruck (and a little frightened), she reached out, with her left hand this time, and pulled. The bar didn't move. Jaime frowned. If her 'normal' hand couldn't bend it, then how could the artificial limb have done this? Did her doctors know about this – and if they did, why hadn't they told her? Still not convinced, she grabbed the bent bed rail with her right hand and pulled. At first, nothing happened. Jaime focused all of her concentration and energy and gradually...she pulled the bar straight again!

_What_ was going on here? Had they given her some sort of strange drug – was she an experiment? Exhausted from the effort, she sank back against the pillow and sighed. Before she could decide what to tell her doctors – and what to ask them – Jaime had fallen asleep and slept straight through the night.

* * *

The next morning, Jaime tried to feign interest in her powdered eggs while Michael sat in a chair beside her bed, drinking his coffee. "Michael, am I...a...freak?" Jaime whispered, seemingly out of the clear blue sky.

Michael nearly dropped his coffee mug; he certainly hadn't seen _that_ coming. _She might not mean what you think she does,_ he cautioned himself. "Why would you ask that?" he queried, in as even a voice as he could manage.

Jaime raised both eyebrows at him and then gave him the slightest of smiles before she reached over and duplicated the previous evening's bending of the bed rail. She turned to him expectantly.

"Oh," he answered. He and Rudy had hoped to tell her about her bionics before she discovered their power for herself. He tried to keep his face (and his tone) as casual as possible. "I see you've discovered one of your...uh...unique abilities," he told her.

"_One_ of them?" Jaime asked. "You mean...there are more? I can...do more?"

"Maybe not now, but eventually -"

"What...can I do?" she wanted to know.

Instead of answering that question directly, Michael began to give her a simple, rudimentary idea of the concept of bionics.

"Wires..." Jaime interrupted at one point, "in my arm?"

"In your legs, too," he confirmed. "Rudy would really be the better person to explain it to you further. He designed them and -"

"Why...me?" Jaime wondered. (And where were her real arm and legs, anyway? What had happened to them?)

Michael moved to sit on the edge of the bed and took Jaime's hand in his own. "Well, you had an accident, and -"

"A bad one?"

"Yes. It was serious. Rudy saved your life when he gave you those new limbs. And they're very special, with – like you've already discovered – some very unusual capabilities."

"Bionic," Jaime repeated, trying to make sense of the word.

"Combination of biology and electronics," he told her.

"It's weird," she announced, pulling the tray table back in front of her and digging into her eggs. Clearly, she had heard all she was willing to hear for now. The rest, Michael knew, would come with time.

* * * * * 


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

"We _have_ to tell her _something!_" Michael insisted, a few days later. "Jaime knows about her bionics, she knows a little bit about what they can do – and she knows that her 'having a bad accident' wasn't enough reason to be fitted with space-age technology!"

"It's too much to dump into her lap right now," Rudy muttered. "She's not ready to hear about it yet. She may never be able to work another mission -"

"And if that's the case," Oscar added, "then we don't want her to feel guilty or obligated in any way."

Michael shook his head with disdain. "So once again, we just bury another truth. Don't you realize that we've gotten far too good at that? She's asking questions, dammit! What do you suggest I tell her?"

"Maybe Oscar and I can talk to her," Rudy suggested. "Give her a watered down version. We'll tell her that yes, the program is sponsored by a faction of the government called the OSI...and that Oscar is at the helm. Then at least she'll know who he really is – and where her bionics came from."

"And the _why_?" Michael persisted. "Because that's her biggest question, you know."

Rudy shrugged. "Trial run? We wanted to see if the technology actually worked, Jaime is athletic...and she was in the right place at the right time."

"I don't like it," Michael argued, "but at least it's a partial truth."

"We'll talk to her today," Oscar promised.

* * *

After her 'talk' with Rudy and Oscar, Michael found a very subdued Jaime sitting in the chair by the window, staring outside. She looked up when she heard him come in, but her usual smile was missing. Michael placed a supportive hand on her shoulder and was mildly surprised when Jaime leaned into him. Before he'd really thought about it, his arm wrapped around her in a comforting half-embrace.

"Rough day," he stated.

"Yeah." She cocked her head to look up at him. "Michael...where is 'home'?"

"What?"

"_Home_. My home. I mean...when I leave here...where do I go?" Jaime asked sadly.

"When the time is closer, we'll talk about all of your options," he said carefully, "and the final decision will be yours to make. Wherever you'd like to go, we'll see that you get there."

"Okay..." she sighed. Michael sensed there was more...and he was right. "Michael? Am I gonna be...normal?"

"Of course you will. You're normal now. And I know one way to help you see that. How'd you like to take a walk – outside?"

Her spirits perked up visibly at the suggestion. "Really?"

"I'll give you a ride down there, and then we'll just take a walk together in the grass. Sound good?"

"Okay!"

For now at least, the clouds had parted and Jaime was able to smile again.

* * *

Before Oscar left the complex, he found Steve, who was working out on his own by running up and down a double flight of stairs. He had a very special favor to ask of Steve, and Oscar hesitated to bring it up because he knew it was likely to cause his friend some pain...but no one else could fill the needed role.

"Pal," he began, "I'm glad I ran into you; I need your help." He told Steve how Jaime had rediscovered her bionics and that her strength was coming back now...and she wasn't sure how to deal with it. Without hesitating, Steve agreed to talk with her (as the only other currently bionic person), to help her cope and get off on the right foot. They both knew Jaime would need all the support she could get...but would Steve be able to handle spending time with Jaime – who still thought of him as a stranger? There was only one way to find out.

Steve glanced over toward the grassy area on the other side of the stairs and just happened to catch something he'd rather not have seen. Jaime was leaning into Michael for support as he helped her out of her wheelchair, then she clung to his arm, gazing happily up at his face as she walked slowly across the lawn.

_Seems she'd rather spend time with somebody else now,_ Steve thought to himself. Still, he was willing to try...for Jaime's sake.

* * *

A few hours later, Steve stood with Michael outside the door to Jaime's room and watched as she experimented once again with the bed rail. She was able to move it back and forth now as if it were rubber...and Michael and Steve exchanged a smile. Jaime looked just like a small child with a brand new toy she couldn't resist playing with...over and over again.

Finally, Michael cleared his throat (so as not to startle her) and then introduced Jaime to Steve as the only other bionic person in the world. "We thought you might like having someone to talk to who knows exactly what it feels like – the good and the bad," he told her.

She and Steve shook hands, with Steve being very careful to keep his expression friendly but neutral. "I'm glad I'm not the only one," Jaime offered.

Steve knew her well enough to read (in her eyes) what she wasn't saying. "Still scary though, huh?" he said once they'd been left alone to 'get acquainted'.

Jaime nodded. "A little. Were you...scared...at first?"

"Definitely. And angry, too. I've had a couple years to get used to it, though."

Jaime shot him a mischievous grin, reached over and pushed the bed rail out as far as it would go. Steve smiled back at her and, once again reading her correctly, put his hand over hers and bent the rail back.

"Anything I can do to help you with all of this," Steve told her, "just say the word. I'm here for the duration – as long as you need me."

Jaime looked up at him more closely – and something about his eyes caught her attention. What _was_ it? "Did we...know each other...before?" she queried.

Steve's breath caught in his throat as he tried to come up with an answer. "We were friends," he said simply.

"Oh, good. 'Cause I like you. Let's be friends now, too – okay?"

Steve realized his hand was still covering Jaime's on the bed rail...and he made no attempt to move it. "Always," he told her – meaning it.

* * *

That night, as soon as she closed her eyes, Jaime began to dream. Everything seemed shrouded with ominous black swirls. There were no faces, no scenery and no action. She could sense rain beating down on her through the darkness, but the only clear part of the entire dream was the searing, agonizing _**pain.**_ It seemed to go on forever, until Jaime sat up in bed, suddenly wide awake and clutching her head.

It took a few moments to realize that nothing hurt. She was in no pain; she had only dreamed it...but it had felt so real! Should she ring for the nurse – and tell her what? That she'd had another nightmare? That just felt silly. There was no pain now; she was perfectly okay. No need to worry anyone needlessly. Just like the last time the pain had hit her, Jaime chose to keep it to herself. After all, it was only a dream.

* * *

Under Rudy's and Michael's careful supervision, Jaime and Steve began spending much of each day together. They ran laps (with Steve down-pacing himself to stay in step with Jaime), lifted weights (Jaime hated this), practiced high and long jumping and also swam laps. One afternoon, as Jaime was getting out of the pool, she looked over at Steve. He saw the look on her face and was instantly alert – she was in _pain_.

"Jaime...what's wrong?" he asked quickly.

Images flashed through her mind too quickly to register any meaning: rain, darkness, Steve standing in front of her with wet hair...and _**pain.**_ This time, it was fleeting. When she opened her mouth to answer him, to tell him what was happening...it was gone. Trying to make light of it, she told him there'd been water in her ear. It had stung for a second; that was all. Steve couldn't help but notice that she was pulling on her _right_ ear. It wouldn't 'sting' without something being seriously wrong. Either her ear was on the fritz...or Jaime had fibbed. Either way, he made a mental note to talk to Rudy as soon as possible.

* * *

"She was in pain, Rudy," Steve explained once he was back in his room where they could talk in private. "And it wasn't 'stinging' like she told me; this was genuine pain."

"Maybe we let her swim for too long; she could have been exhausted," the doctor suggested.

"No. I've known Jaime for most of her life – and I know what I saw, in her eyes, in her body language. Something was hurting her. She seemed fine when she got out of the water, then she looked at me and _boom!_ It was that sudden. I'd almost think...that it was me..."

Rudy's eyes met his patient's. "I'm sure it was a coincidence," he said. Inwardly, the doctor hoped that it truly was. His gut told him a different story – one without a happy ending.

* * *

"I'm _fine!_" Jaime protested when her doctors informed her they were taking her for a brain scan. "You just did one a few days ago, and -"

"Over a week ago," Michael corrected softly.

"Still...there's nothing wrong with me!" She still hadn't told them about the dreams – or the pain that went with them. "Please – I'm so sick of tests and machines and equipment. I just wanna rest! Please?"

Michael put an arm around Jaime's waist and gently but firmly eased her into the wheelchair. You can rest tonight, after the test," he promised. "And we'll skip the pre-breakfast workout tomorrow so you can sleep in. How's that sound?"

"Do I have a choice?" Jaime muttered sullenly.

Neither doctor answered. There was really nothing more they could say.

* * * * *


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter Nine

"I don't understand it," Rudy told the three men assembled in his office. (This time, Steve was included in the conference.) "Jaime's brain scan came back normal. I asked her if she'd been experiencing any pain – or _anything_ unusual – and the most she'd admit to was ' a couple of bad dreams'."

"She was wide awake at the pool yesterday," Steve reminded him.

"I know. And I'm not doubting what you told us at all; you're a better judge than we are of what Jaime might be going through," Rudy explained.

"I'm probably not the one she'd most likely confide in, though," Steve admitted.

Oscar frowned. "You're her friend; she knows that much anyway. Who else would she -"

"Michael," Steve said flatly. At this point in time, as much as it pained him to admit it, the closest person to Jaime's heart was Michael. While she hadn't exactly told him that in so many words, her eyes spoke volumes and Steve was far from blind.

"Steve," Michael began, more than a little flustered and uneasy, "I don't know if that's necessarily true."

"If I can see it, then surely you can see it too," Steve told him.

"I'm Jaime's doctor," Michael protested, looking to Rudy for help that didn't come.

Like Steve, Rudy had noticed the glances and the touch of a hand that was held for a beat too long. While (to his knowledge) Michael had not crossed any ethical barriers, he was certainly drawing closer to the line. "And that's all?" Rudy wondered. "Just her doctor?"

"Yes!" Michael practically shouted. "I don't know what you're accusing me of, but my feelings for Jaime are professional! Sure, I've seen the way she looks at me – but chalk that up to patient-doctor infatuation, because that's all it is."

Oscar sat a little more forward in his chair. "Maybe it's not entirely a bad thing, if Jaime feels close to you, Michael," he suggested (shooting Steve an apologetic look). "We've all agreed that something's going on with her – something she isn't talking about – and she needs to tell someone before it's too late."

Michael nodded, getting the point. "And...it looks like I'm that someone," he acknowledged.

"Be subtle about it," Steve suggested from past experience. "If you ask her flat out, she'll never tell you. Try to ease her into it. Talk around it and just leave her an opening. Eventually, she'll spill it."

"Thank you," Michael said quietly (knowing how hard it was for Steve to give him advice about Jaime). "I'll try that – and I think I may know the perfect approach: a little psychological subterfuge. Camouflage the subject, so to speak."

"Exactly," Steve agreed.

Michael looked toward the other two men in the room, who had grown completely silent. "Rudy, didn't you need to show Oscar Jaime's lab results?" he asked. Not subtle, but it got the point across.

"Of course," Rudy answered. He and Oscar closed the office door on their way out.

"Steve, look," Michael began, "I know that what you and Jaime had was very special. I would never intentionally do anything to interfere with that, or to try and wedge myself between the two of you."

"I know," Steve allowed. He wondered exactly what Michael was leading up to.

"Still, I have to admit that while I don't feel about Jaime the way she seems to feel about me, I can see the possibility of there being something between us. In the future, I mean. When she's not my patient anymore. While I'd never do anything to try and 'take her away from you' -"

"She doesn't really 'belong' to either one of us right now," Steve concluded for him.

"That's right. And I think who she does decide to be with – whether it's one of us, someone else entirely or no one at all – that decision has to be Jaime's."

"I agree," Steve told him. "The last thing I want is to cause her any more pain or confusion – and I trust that you feel the same way."

"Exactly. So we leave it up to Jaime, then?" Michael extended his hand to Steve, who shook it willingly. Both men now knew that they shared exactly the same objectives...the same goals and the same hopes for the future.

* * *

The next morning (by prior agreement) Rudy came in to examine Jaime alone. "Every day, you get a little bit better," he told her. "Your vital signs are better than mine and there were no abnormalities in your brain scan. Pretty soon you'll be beating Steve around the track."

"Yep," Jaime affirmed. "Where's Michael?"

"He'll be here in a few minutes," Rudy promised. "Is there anything you think I should know about this morning? Any more bad dreams – or any pain?"

"Nope. I'm good."

"Anything you'd like to ask me?"

"How long will I be here?"

"Hard to say, Honey. Until we – and especially _you_ – are completely comfortable with you being on your own." _And until Oscar and I figure out how to explain your sudden reappearance from the dead to the rest of the outside world,_ he added to himself.

When Rudy left, Jaime decided to wait by the window for Michael. She loved to open it wide and listen to the birds singing in the tree just below her. Besides, he would likely be bringing more photos for her to look at and she could see them better in the sunlight.

When Michael came in, he had no photos. Instead, he was pushing a small cart with a projector on it with one hand and pulling a rolled up screen behind him with the other. Jaime looked at him questioningly.

"I thought we'd try something different today," he told her as he set the screen up opposite her bed and wheeled the projector into place. He patted the bed lightly. "Hop on up; you'll have a better view over here."

"A movie?" she asked hopefully, returning to the bed and letting Michael prop the pillows up behind her.

"Better. You can't talk during a movie. I've got some slides we'll be looking at, and instead of just asking you what you remember about a picture, we'll both talk about these – together."

"Okay! Any popcorn?" Jaime asked.

Michael laughed. "Maybe we'll dig some up later," he said, turning out the lights. He hit the button on the projector and the first image filled the screen. It was the tennis court in Ojai where Jaime had first learned to bat a tennis ball. "We told you that you used to play tennis," he reminded her. "Does this picture bring anything special to mind?"

"It was a lot of fun," she offered. "And I was good at it, too!"

"Yes, you were." Michael knew this wasn't a memory on her part, but rather a recall of what she'd been told in the last few days. When they'd first explained that she'd been a tennis player, Jaime thought it had been a hobby until they told her that, in fact, she'd been a ranking pro. "Think you'd ever feel like picking up a racket again?" he asked.

"Yeah, maybe. But..." Jaime hesitated.

"What is it?"

"I don't know how to play anymore."

"Well, I do, so that's easily fixable," Michael promised. He hit the button again. The next slide was a photo of a small plane, very similar to the one she'd flown in when she and Steve went skydiving.

"It's a plane," she announced.

"Of course it is. Ever flown in one that small?"

"Nope. Don't think I'd want to, either."

Michael looked more closely at her; Jaime's face was neutral. "And why is that?" he asked.

Jaime shrugged. "A bigger plane would get there faster."

"Okay," Michael chuckled, "I'll buy that." He clicked the button again...and saw Jaime visibly flinch. Up on the screen was a photo of an old farm at night – in the rain. "Jaime...?" he queried. It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like she was trembling.

Jaime shook her head, fighting back tears. "Shut it off," she told him.

"What's going on?"

"Please...just shut it off," she begged.

Michael quickly turned on the lights, just in time to see Jaime collapse into the pillows, clutching her head.

* * * * *


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Steve was in his own brand of agony. He had been in his room talking to Oscar when Rudy had appeared in the doorway, beckoning Oscar into the hall. They'd closed Steve's door...and Oscar didn't come back. While it could have been a National Security matter, with Oscar having been summoned back to the office, Steve's gut told him it was Jaime. Something had gone wrong.

Every terrible possibility played through his head. Michael had been testing her...had his questions spooked her so badly that she tried to run? Had she suffered another hemorrhage? Was she lying on the operating table right now – or worse? Steve knew his door wasn't locked. He could go out there and demand to be told what was happening...but did he have that right? And inserting himself by force into an already bad situation could potentially make things even worse for Jaime. No, he decided, they would tell him as soon as they could. For now, he would simply have to wait – and it was tearing him apart.

* * *

Rudy and Michael were at a loss to explain – to anyone – what had happened to their patient. Nothing on Jaime's brain scan (from less than 24 hours ago) or in any of her tests showed where the intense pain was coming from. They'd been forced to knock her out with a series of pain killers because she'd been going into shock. She certainly hadn't been capable of telling them what was going on.

"I don't understand it," Michael said again as he magnified the brain scan photos and stared at them intently. "There nothing here – no blockage, no clots – nothing."

"We've pushed her too hard," Rudy said grimly. "We've somehow given her flashbacks of the condition she was in the night she died. Or...almost died," he added, correcting himself.

"You're saying it's all in her head?" Oscar asked.

"Not exactly. The pain Jaime's feeling is very real – it's excruciating – but it has no immediate physical cause. Something triggered it, but the cause came from somewhere other than her own body," Rudy explained. "She'll be out for at least a good twelve hours now and hopefully when she wakes up, she can tell us at least a little of what happened to her. And then we need to find a different approach, to be sure we don't trigger that pain again."

"What do you suggest?" Oscar asked Rudy. (Michael was still studying the brain scan...and finding nothing.)

"We need to stop trying to trigger her memory – and see what might develop naturally. It may have been a case of too much, too soon – or for all we know, she may never be able to look back without that pain. If that's the case,we'll work on coping strategies with her, but for now -"

"For now we'll just help her in any way we can," Michael said, finally turning around. "I agree; we need to let Jaime call the shots. But I don't think we should stop the testing and the memory enhancement trials entirely. Jaime's asking questions. She wants to know more about who she is and where she comes from – and the little tidbits we've fed to her about her past aren't enough."

"She's had no spontaneous memories of her own?" Oscar asked.

"None," Michael confirmed. "She doesn't recognize photos of her parents – or even herself as a child. She doesn't think she's ever been up in a small plane and told me she has no idea how to play tennis."

"What about Steve?" Oscar queried. "Still nothing there, either?"

"Only what we've told her."

The three men fell silent...until Rudy had an idea. "Maybe Steve is the key to helping Jaime start to unravel her past. They've spent a lot of time together here, but it's always been structured and supervised. Maybe if they're alone together – if, say, he retaught her how to play tennis -"

"It could work," Michael agreed. _And send her straight back into Steve's arms,_ he added silently. Still, he wanted what was best for his patient...didn't he?

* * *

"You'd have to be very careful," Rudy told Steve. "Let Jaime ask the questions – _**if**_ she asks questions – and then answer them as simply as possible. No extra details and nothing too upsetting."

"I'll tread lightly, Doc," Steve promised. "When do we start?"

"She'll still be too groggy tomorrow from all the sedation, but you could drop by her room and see if a little tennis might spark her interest. If she's willing, then the day after tomorrow should be fine. The workout should do her some good; you could even start showing her how to hold back and control some of her strength."

"Got it covered," Steve replied.

"If she has any pain at all -"

Steve nodded. "She'll be back here faster than she can blink."

* * *

"Hey there, Sleepyhead – how ya feeling?" Steve asked. He approached Jaime's bed slowly, wanting to make sure he'd be welcome.

He was; Jaime flashed him her broadest smile. "Hi!" she said brightly. (She seemed to be suffering no ill effects from the previous day's trauma.) "Did they let you run before breakfast?"

"_Let me?_" Steve laughed. "Rudy was out there with a whip and a chair!"

Jaime giggled. "Well one of us got fresh air anyway. They won't let me out of this stupid bed. Not for a couple more hours at least – and I've been awake since four!"

"You must be bored outta your mind," Steve empathized.

"You know it! And I feel fine!"

"From what I hear, you didn't feel so fine yesterday; they just want to be sure you're okay."

Jaime pouted. "Don't I look okay?"

"You look great," Steve confirmed. _Good luck keeping her in that bed, Rudy,_ he added in his head. "Hey, if you feel up to it, how 'bout playing a little tennis tomorrow – no doctors...just us?"

"I'd love that! Except...well...I don't really know how, so I'm not gonna be very good."

Steve grinned. "Perfect – 'cause I'm not that good either. But I can at least get you going again, to see if you still like having a racket in your hands."

"Okay. As long as you promise not to laugh at me."

"Scout's Honor," Steve promised, holding up his fingers in a Scout salute.

"Were you a Boy Scout?"

"You bet," he confirmed. Jaime frowned slightly. "What? You don't like Boy Scouts?"

"No, it's not that. I just...I wish I knew stuff like that. About me, I mean. Was I ever a Girl Scout?"

"I think you were too busy playing tennis," Steve told her.

"Did I like school – was I a good student?" Jaime continued. Steve could tell these questions were hypothetical, that she was more talking than asking, so he stayed quiet. "Everything is a blank – and it's so frustrating!" she cried, angrily brushing away a tear or two.

"I'll help you in any way I can," Steve promised. "Even if it's just to listen."

"You're a good friend, Steve." Jaime reached out for his hand, and smiled through her tears. "Thank you."

Steve could see her eyelids beginning to droop. Rudy was right; she was groggier than she realized. "Want me to sit with you while you fall asleep?" he offered. Jaime nodded, and Steve settled back into the chair, still gently holding Jaime's hand.

* * * * *


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

When they walked onto the tennis court and Steve handed Jaime a racket, she held it like a foreign object that she'd never seen before, waving it back and forth more like a golf club than anything else. Steve modeled the proper grip for her but she still didn't quite get it right, so he stood behind her with his hands over her own and held her racket _with_ her. It was almost like holding her in his arms, but Steve was careful to keep his emotions in check...outwardly, at least. He swung the racket with her a few times and then reluctantly released her and stepped away.

Jaime looked to be deep in thought. Steve watched her carefully, on the alert for the slightest sign of trouble or pain. She made a few tentative swings on her own, then stopped. "Are you _sure_ I used to be good at this?" she queried.

"One of the top five in the world," he told her.

Jaime's eyes grew wide...with doubt. "Seriously?" Rudy and Michael had told her she'd been a world-class player, but had apparently left that detail out.

"Few more tournaments and you'd probably have been Number One."

"Oh."

"Hey," he began, trying to jolly her out of a suddenly somber mood, "there's a lot to be said for playing for fun, too, ya know." He started to make his way to the other side of the net. "Let's see what you can do." He stepped back and sent her an easy volley – and she swung wildly, golf club-style again, missing by several feet. He sent a second ball directly to her...and she missed again.

Steve watched as Jaime's jaw set firmly in that stubborn way that he knew so well. He waited. She raised the racket to the proper height and bit her lip. "I can do this, you know," she insisted.

"I know. You ready?"

"Almost." She made a few swings at waist height, but her arm stopped at the midpoint.

"Make sure you follow through," he called to her, demonstrating. "Swing it all the way from back to front and you'll send the ball flying."

"Okay – hit me another one!" she demanded, clenching her jaw even tighter. Steve sent another slow, easy one right to her – and this time, Jaime hit it...directly into the net. "Dammit!"

"Need a little break?" Steve asked gently.

"No!" Jaime told him (not so gently). "I'm gonna DO this!"

Steve chuckled inwardly. Memory or no memory, Jaime still had the same set to her jaw that he'd learned not to argue with back when they were teenagers. "Okay – get ready then," he told her. He served another one, with just a touch more power this time; if it hit her racket harder, maybe that would help her get a bit more distance and at least make it over the net. Jaime tensed, swung – and connected. The ball flew back across the net so hard and so fast that Steve ducked. Instead of hitting the court, it continued soaring through the air...straight through the back fence, the next court over.

Jaime stood stunned, and slowly lowered her racket to the ground. "I guess...I hit it," she said softly.

"I guess you did," Steve agreed, rejoining her and picking up her racket. "How about if we go for a walk and maybe work on channeling that strength a little bit better?"

Jaime looked at him, over to the hole in the fence and then back at Steve. "Yeah, that'd probably be good," she agreed. 'Then maybe someday we can try this again?"

"Deal," he promised. He wrapped a friendly arm across her shoulders (instead of a lover's arm around her waist) and led Jaime off the court.

* * *

With a couple of bottles of soda from the machine outside the courts, Steve and Jaime took a leisurely stroll down to the river that ran behind Rudy's complex.

"I love the water," Jaime said as she settled into the grass.

"I..." Steve started to say 'I know' but didn't want Jaime to think they were more familiar than just friends, so he switched gears midstream. "I do, too," he told her instead.

"It helps me think sometimes," she admitted.

"Thinking about anything special?"

Jaime took a healthy swig of her soda. "I suck at tennis."

"You're still learning. I guarantee you'll get better at it...if you want to, that is."

Jaime sighed. "I just want to be _**me**_," she told him. "But I don't even know who 'me' is!"

"I do. Do you want me to tell you who Jaime Sommers is?" Steve offered. Jaime nodded, staring out at the water as though she was afraid to hear what he might say. "Jaime is a beautiful, intelligent and very brave young woman who has been forced – through no fault of her own – into a whole new life. She's had to relearn everything from the ground up – and is doing a damn fine job of it, too."

"Yeah, right," Jaime scoffed.

"You know how many people in the same situation would curl up in a corner somewhere, too scared to move?" Steve pointed out.

"I guess." She ran her fingers through the grass, plucked a couple blades and tossed them into the water. "You've been so nice to me," she went on, "and I don't think you'd lie to me..."

"You're right. I wouldn't."

Jaime paused. "Can...can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"Did the government pay for your bionics, too?" she wondered.

"Yes."

"And exactly what do they get for all that money? Do you work for Oscar?" Jaime asked.

Steve hadn't seen _that_ coming! He heard Rudy's voice in his head: _No details, Steve, just answer her questions and let Jaime lead the way._ "Yes," he answered simply.

Jaime looked straight at him. "Do I work for Oscar, too?"

_I don't think you'd lie to me_, she'd just told him. Already, Steve was struggling to keep to that faith she had placed in him. "No," he told her, "you don't." At this very moment in time, that was, after all, the truth.

Jaime seemed to accept this. "So..." she said, switching gears, "how do I _not_ make holes in fences?"

"You learn how to control the strength put out by your arm...and your legs. It's hard at first, but pretty soon you won't even have to think about it. If you need to bend a steel bar, you'll do it, and if you need to hold an egg in your hand – or hit a tennis ball across one court instead of two – you'll do that just as easily." He leaned down toward the water and picked out a couple of smooth stones, handing one to Jaime. "Do you know how to skip a stone?" he asked.

Jaime nodded. "Michael showed me."

Steve ignored the slight sting. "That's good," he said. "I want you to give that stone a nice, gentle toss, the way Michael showed you. Just let it skip across the water once or twice."

Jaime drew her wrist back and gave the stone a bit of a spin, sending it hopping twice across the water's surface before it sank. She looked at Steve expectantly, and he handed her another stone. "Now use all your strength and make that one hit the tree on the other side. Really wing it into the bark." He watched as Jaime's stone hit the tree dead-center. "Nice aim," he told her.

"That was easy!" Jaime crowed.

Steve handed her a third stone. "Try and land this one on the shore; don't hit the tree, and don't hit the water," he instructed. This time, the rock bounced slightly off of the bottom of the tree and rolled into the river. Jaime looked deflated. "That was really good," Steve assured her, placing one more in her hand. "Keep trying; you'll get it."

With the very next shot...she did.

* * * * *


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

"How much _does_ she know?" Oscar queried, standing at the window. He and the two doctors were watching Jaime and Steve on the tennis court. Jaime returned his serves more easily now, and usually even managed to keep the ball on the court. (She still needed a lot of practice but was quite apparently having a wonderful time.)

Michael couldn't take his eyes off of her, and so answered Oscar without turning around. "She knows the OSI exists but just the barest, most basic details about its functions."

"What about herself – her background – has she delved into that yet?" Oscar wondered. (What he really wanted to know was how soon Jaime might be asking to resume a 'normal life'.)

"She knows her parents are dead – and that she has no living relatives," Rudy answered. "And that spooked her; she didn't ask us anything else. But she's been very eager to learn new things and relearn some of the old...like tennis."

"She's doing very well," Oscar noted.

"I clocked her at thirty miles an hour this morning," Rudy added. "It won't be long until she's back to full strength. Physically, things couldn't be better."

"I'd like to start working with Jaime on the photos again," Michael put in. Rudy shot him a dubious look. "It's been more than a week since she last experienced the pain, and -"

"That we know of," Rudy reminded him quietly.

"Not the photos that seemed to trigger the pain," Michael explained, "at least, not for awhile. I'll start with her childhood, her parents...and just see how she does, where she goes with the information."

"Awfully risky," Rudy argued.

"I'll tread lightly. Besides, we can't keep Jaime in limbo indefinitely."

"We also can't force her to absorb things she's just not ready for!" Rudy fired back.

Oscar frowned. Clearly, the two doctors were at loggerheads. "Would a therapist help?" he suggested. While he was in no hurry to deal with the complications involved in returning Jaime to the 'world of the living', he did genuinely care about her and it seemed that they had reached an impasse. Without some sort of breakthrough, she would go no further.

Michael shrugged. "Maybe...if she'd agreed to meet with one. I've already approached that subject, and, well, you know how stubborn she can be..."

"And if it isn't optional?" Oscar proposed.

Michael shook his head. "Just how angry do you want to make her?" he chuckled...then grew serious. "Jaime's confused, she's frightened and -yes – she's angry. She seems to be dreaming about the things she can't quite grasp or deal with consciously, and a therapist _would_ help with that, but -"

"Do you find one or do I?" Oscar asked in a firm voice.

"Let me broach the subject with her, see what she says. We'll take care of it...somehow. You've got enough to deal with." _And I already know what her answer will be..._

* * *

"No!" Jaime threw a rock into the river with an angry _splash_. "All this time, you've been telling me I'm not crazy – that I'm normal – and now you want me to see a shrink?"

"Jaime, just hear me out," Michael pleaded softly.

"No." Jaime turned to walk away from him, and Michael gently grabbed her arm. "Leave me alone!" she insisted, trying to shake him off... but Michael's grip tightened and he pulled her closer, forcing her to turn around and look into his eyes.

Jaime gave up the struggle, fearing that if she yanked away too hard, she might actually hurt him. Instead, she buried her face in his shoulder and gave in to her emotions. Her body shook visibly as all of the fear and frustration began to pour out of her. Michael loosened his forceful grip and embraced her instead. "This has been the hardest thing you'll ever have to deal with," he told her, tenderly rubbing her back.

Michael knew the line between 'doctor' and 'man' had become a dangerous blur...but right now, Jaime needed him. Best case scenario, she might be able to share her thoughts more freely and Oscar (and – to a lesser extent – Rudy) would drop the idea of sending in a therapist. He would help Jaime himself...if she'd let him.

Finally, Jaime raised her head to look at him, and Michael felt the stirring of feelings he knew he shouldn't have as her brushed away her tears. Jaime's eyes were searching his face for answers to questions she didn't dare ask, and before he could consider the possible consequences, Michael leaned down and met her lips with his own.

From the window of the day room, Steve turned away to head back to his room. He'd seen more than enough.

* * *

Steve pushed away his dinner as he faced the inner quandary of what (if anything) to do about what he'd seen. Clearly, Michael had gone too far. Yet, who would Steve tell...and what exactly could he say, without sounded like a bitter ex-lover? Maybe it wasn't really as bad as it had looked. Steve tried to think with his head...instead of with his heart.

At least Jaime was alive, he reminded himself, and he was still able to be a part of her life. He knew he could help her transition back to 'real life' in ways that no one else could – and he was willing to do anything it took to make that transition as smooth as possible. Her happiness was his number one priority...but what if that happiness involved her being in the arms of another man? Could he deal with that? He _had_ to...for Jaime's sake.

* * *

Back in his Los Angeles office, Oscar was putting in another late night. He had his own quandary to reason through. Jaime had originally been made bionic with an eye toward her becoming the same sort of asset to the government that Steve was. She was intelligent, quick-witted and brave...but would she ever be able to become an operative? Was it even right to expect that of her anymore?

Regardless of Oscar's personal feelings, though, would the government that had spent millions of dollars on Jaime's bionic surgery (not to mention her current medical treatment) agree to let her go? Before any sort of decision on her future could be made, they needed to find out if Jaime was truly capable of resuming a normal life. _Was she?_ Of course, she was, Oscar told himself. They just had to find the right method to reach her, to help her cope – and a way to explain her reappearance to the rest of the outside world.

* * *

Rudy had met with Michael that evening while Jaime was having her dinner. The young doctor told his mentor that their patient had made a breakthrough, that she was finally acknowledging her feelings and making the first strides at trying to deal with them. Rudy sensed there was more that Michael wasn't saying, but what he did say was nothing short of excellent news. Perhaps today had been the start of a new chapter, and Jaime could begin learning about her past without the pain that had threatened her before. Instead of holding her back, perhaps it was time to set her free...to let her try her own wings and see if she could fly.

* * *

The burger was tasteless and the fries were nearly cold...but Jaime didn't notice. Today, by the river, Michael's kiss had made her feel like a real person again, instead of merely a shadow. Now she felt truly alive – and couldn't wait to see what tomorrow might bring. As soon as she'd finished her meal, she laid back against her pillow, happily closed her eyes...and began to dream.

In her dream, Michael stood by the river, lit by the bright summer sunshine and holding his arms out to her. Jaime took an eager step toward him and found that _she couldn't move_. She wasn't paralyzed, but something (or someone) was holding her firmly in place. She looked back and sensed, rather than saw, a figure there: formless and faceless, and yet she somehow knew it was a man. She felt as though he wasn't touching her but was still able to hold her back, to keep her from Michael's arms.

Jaime woke up startled, wondering what the dream could mean. Was there really someone behind her (or someone she'd left behind)? What – or who – was keeping her from moving forward?

* * * * *


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

Jaime's vital signs were as strong as ever, but Rudy noticed that she looked tired and drawn. Since her body required less sleep than one that was 100 percent flesh and blood, the doctor guessed she'd been awake most of the night. He'd been about to ask what was on her mind when Jaime came out with it herself.

"Rudy...was I ever married?"

"No, Honey, you never were," he answered.

"Oh. Okay. Well...did I date? I mean, I know I must've dated, but was there someone I was close to?"

Rudy patted her hand while he came up with a decent answer...then he smiled. "I make it a habit not to get involved in my patients' love lives," he replied.

Jaime stared at the far wall with an even farther-off expression. "'Cause what if there _was_ somebody? Maybe he doesn't know what happened to me...maybe he thinks I left him...and...that's just not right." Her fingers picked absently at the blanket. "I wish I could remember," she added vacantly.

"Maybe it'll come to you in time," he assured her. "Listen, do you feel up to looking at some more pictures? Michael has a new set he thought he might show you – and I'll sit in, if that's alright." This time, they had a slightly different approach in mind, and he had insisted they 'double team' her. Michael would run the projector (and provide any commentary) and Rudy would keep both eyes glued to their patient's condition.

"Okay," she agreed without much enthusiasm. (Would the photos bring her some new memories...or only more pain?)

Rudy swung the door open and stepped back toward the bed as Michael came in and set up the projector. "You let us know if you get too tired – or if you feel any pain at all, alright?"

Jaime nodded. "Hey, that's me!" she exclaimed as the first picture hit the screen. She was in her high school graduation cap and gown, and it was close enough time-wise that her face was clearly recognizable to her.

"Good," Michael answered. He hit the button to change the slide. The photo was of Jaime (age about 14) in a tennis dress and squinting into the sun as she posed fiercely with her racket.

"Is that...me, too?"

"Sure is," Michael replied. "Do you remember this?"

"No, but it's kinda cool. Dress is too short, though. Yuck!"

"Alright – how about this one?"

Jaime stared at the photo of a young girl in a blue-checkered dress who was picking yellow roses. The face was similar to her own – and a near match of her teen-age picture. "Me?" she asked, not as certain this time.

"That's you," Michael confirmed. Showing the photos in order of reverse age had been his inspiration, and it seemed to be working.

"Ugly dress," she said dryly. "Sort of looks like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz."

Both doctors turned to look at her, without being too obvious. Jaime hadn't viewed the movie since coming out of her coma, so this was her first spontaneous memory. Maybe, they hoped, it would open the door for more of the same.

"Are there more pictures?" she asked, unsettled by the slight break in the action.

The next shot on the screen was the photo of the man, woman, girl and dog that Jaime hadn't recognized before. This time, she looked at it intently for a very long time, leaning forward in her bed as she gazed at the faces. It had been taken around the same time as the previous photo, and her mind was beginning to make the needed connections.

"That's me..." she said very softly. The doctors held their breath. "So those must be...are they...my parents?"

"Yes, they are," Rudy told her, watching her as closely as he could in the semi-darkened room. She didn't appear to be in any distress; to the contrary, Jaime seemed fascinated.

"My parents..." she repeated. "And...I had a dog."

"Do you remember his name?" Michael ventured.

"No. But I remember...the roses. There were always yellow roses."

There was only one more slide, this one of an even younger Jaime playing in a sandbox with a chubby little boy who looked a few years older than she was. Jaime looked at it and shook her head. "I have no idea," she told them. "Looks like me, but who was my friend?"

The doctors decided it was better to leave that question alone...for now.

* * *

That afternoon, Steve found Jaime at her favorite spot by the river, and he stopped before he reached her, taking time to notice the way the wind seemed to separate her hair into individual strands that the sun then turned to gold. Steve thought that she'd never looked more beautiful. She looked so peaceful that he almost hated to disturb her, but he hadn't seen her in almost a day and a half...and he missed her.

"Mind some company?" he called out.

Jaime turned – and smiled. "I was hoping you'd be out here! I wanna show you something!" Steve approached and she handed him four smooth 'skipping' stones. "Give 'em to me one at a time, okay?" She held a fifth one in the palm of her hand, and turned toward the water. "Watch _this!_" she crowed happily. With a flick of her wrist, the stone went sailing, skipped once and then sank.

She seemed pleased with herself, but Steve was puzzled. She'd skipped stones before; what was she so excited about? Jaime plucked the next one from his hand – and sent it out over the water with three perfect skips. She giggled gleefully and her joy was contagious. Steve wasn't sure where it was coming from, but he found he had to laugh with her. She held out her hand and he gave her another stone. This one skipped exactly five times before sinking; Steve was starting to get the idea, but decided to let her play it out.

The fourth stone landed gently on the opposite shore of the river, and with a triumphant gleam in her eyes, Jaime sent the last one pinging off the bark of the tree. "See?" she concluded. "I can control it now; I've been practicing!"

"Perfect," Steve agreed, giving her a friendly, one-armed hug. "I am so proud of you. Rudy will be, too."

"And Michael."

"Of course," Steve agreed, "and Michael."

"And I'll bet I can kick your butt at tennis now, too – or pretty soon, anyway."

"Is that a challenge?" Steve countered.

"Yep. First thing after breakfast tomorrow?"

"You're on," he agreed.

Jaime smiled at him one more time, then looked down at the riverbank and kicked the pebbles idly, like a small child who had a big question. "Steve...have we known each other a long time?" she asked without preamble or warning.

_Wow,_ he thought, _talk about coming out of left field!_ "Yeah, for quite awhile," he confirmed. Jaime sank down into the grass so he sat down beside her.

"Before I was bionic?" she queried.

"Yes."

"Before _you_ were bionic?"

_Where is she going with this one?_ he wondered. "Yep, before that, too," he replied. _Keep it simple; just answer her questions,_ he reminded himself again. Suddenly that seemed very hard.

"Did you know my parents?" she finally asked.

What was he supposed to say to that, without possibly endangering her by bringing up too much, too soon? They'd shared milk and cookies on countless afternoons at both of their houses – and Jaime's mother had made the best chocolate chip/pecan cookies he'd ever tasted. But he didn't dare tell her that. "I knew your mom," he began carefully. "And I know she loved you more than anything. Knew your dad, too, but not as well. But they were both so proud of you. I can tell you that for sure."

"I wish I could remember them," Jaime said wistfully. "I saw their picture today. That's really all I have of them...a picture."

"When your memory starts coming back, I think those times with your family will be the first in line."

"I hope so." Jaime kicked a few more pebbles with her toes. "We've been friends a really long time then, huh?"

"I guess you could say that."

Jaime turned to look him fully in the face, studying his features – especially his eyes – for a very long time. "Sometimes...lately...I get the feeling that there was someone I was close to before all this happened to me. I mean, _really_ close. Then my brain went kablooey and somehow they just got left behind." Her eyes seared into Steve's as she wondered if she dared voice the thought. "Was it...you?"

Steve gave what he hoped was a reassuring smile. "I'm still here, Jaime – and I'm still your friend. I always will be. So you haven't left me behind."

_And God help me,_ Steve added to himself, _I will never stop loving you..._

* * * * *


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

With Steve's help, Rudy and Michael compiled a small scrapbook of photos from Jaime's childhood. They were careful to include only those of Jaime and her parents; nothing that could trigger memories she might not be ready for. 'One Step at a Time' was their new motto, even though Jaime's steps had become giant leaps.

She was still retaining even the tiniest detail that was allowed to her...and eagerly begging for more. Left unspoken, though, was her desire to find out who – if anyone – she might have left behind. The way everyone had seemed to hedge around that subject, she sensed that it might be too touchy to discuss. Whatever the reason for their silence, Jaime was determined to unravel any and all secrets that her past might hold. For her, every tidbit was a new clue...a new piece to the puzzle, and she threw herself wholeheartedly into finding out more.

The trouble was, the puzzle pieces didn't always fit together. Too much was still missing – and she knew it. Why was everyone so stingy in what they were willing to tell her? If she dwelled on that for too long, it almost seemed sinister. She wondered, too, about Oscar. If she didn't work for him, why was he so concerned with her progress and her recovery? Sometimes she wondered if _**he**_ was the love she'd left behind! Was that what they all were hiding? He was always so kind to her, visiting nearly every day – and on the days that he didn't stop in her room, she usually still saw him somewhere on the grounds. He didn't look at her the way Michael did, though...or even the way Steve did.

_What was everybody hiding?_

* * *

She didn't need Michael's arm to steady her anymore when they took their daily walk together, but when he offered it, she leaned into him contentedly.

"It's so beautiful here," she sighed. "I'm gonna miss it."

"Miss it?" Michael was puzzled. "Are you going somewhere I don't know about?"

"Well...someday. I mean, I can't stay here forever. I'm not sick anymore, you know."

"And you're getting even better, every single day," he told her.

"So I can't really stay in a place for sick people...can I? Michael, what's gonna happen to me? I still don't know where I'm supposed to go – or what I'll do with myself when I get there!"

Michael turned her to face him and brushed the hair from her eyes. She looked so vulnerable and alone at that moment that he wanted to pull her close and never let go...but he took a deep breath and reined himself in. "That's why you're still here, so we can help you figure that out," he answered gently.

"How long will that be?"

"As long as it takes...and not one minute longer," he said.

Jaime seemed satisfied with that, and turned to continue on their walk, then impulsively stopped, swung back into Michael's arms...and kissed him. Mentally, Michael temporarily removed his stethoscope and his 'doctor' persona – and this time, he let his emotions take over, if only for the moment.

* * *

"You've been spending a lot of time with Jaime lately," Rudy noted when Michael returned to the lab.

Michael busied himself with Jaime's file and answered in as professional a tone as he could manage. "She's starting to open up to me, so I think the extra attention has really been beneficial for her."

"Good," Rudy said, wondering just what his young assistant _wasn't_ saying. He was well aware that their patient had developed quite a crush on Michael (he'd have had to be blind not to notice) but so far it seemed Michael was handling things as well as could be expected. "Any new spontaneous memories?" he asked.

"Not yet. But I think it's time to stop mollycoddling her and really step up her therapy. There hasn't been any evidence of more pain, and she's getting impatient – and bored. We also need to consider telling her about her ear...and tuning it back up again."

"Do you really think that's wise?" Rudy asked, frowning. "There are still a lot of things she doesn't need to overhear..."

"True, but we can start meeting down here, instead of in your office. The lab is soundproof for a reason, you know. Besides, it'll give her a new challenge to concentrate on."

"Maybe you're right," Rudy allowed. "learning to focus her ear probably should be the next step...as long as we're _very_ careful what we talk about outside of this lab..."

* * *

"My _ear_ is bionic too?" Jaime exclaimed. "Why didn't you tell me before now?"

"We're taking one step at a time, Honey," Rudy told her. "Things aren't as overwhelming that way."

"And this is the next step," Michael added, "which means you're making progress."

Jaime beamed at him, admiring his deep, brown eyes and his very kiss-able lips as she also absorbed his words. If only they were alone...

"So I have to have more surgery?" she finally asked.

"Very minor surgery," Rudy explained. "You could even stay awake for this one -"

"I'd rather not," Jaime said. To her, surgery was surgery and she'd rather stay unaware of what they were doing to her...especially when it was something she didn't understand, something that still frightened her just a little bit.

"Afterward," Michael continued, "things may be very confusing at first, until you learn to focus. But I'll be here to help you – and so will Rudy. You'll be just fine."

"I trust you," Jaime allowed. "Let's do this."

A few hours later, Jaime surfaced from the light anesthetic and opened her eyes. The first face she saw was (of course) Michael's, with his familiar, reassuring smile.

"How do you feel?" he asked.

Jaime frowned. Was this what it was _supposed_ to be like? Michael was talking to her...but there were so many other voices, as well. A nurse (somewhere down the hall) was talking about wanting Half and Half in her coffee instead of the powdered creamer in the break room. Someone else was mumbling to himself that what he really needed was a good, long nap. She heard dozens of different footsteps and odd noises coming from every direction...and could even hear the birds chirping outside the window! Everything was rushing together in one huge cacophony of unintelligible sound, so none of it made much sense. Jaime turned and tilted her head from one side to the other, trying to sort it all out.

Michael saw that she was struggling. "Focus on my voice," he told her gently. "Let the rest of the sounds just fade away; you don't need them right now. Just listen to my voice..."

"I'm trying," Jaime said. "I don't like this!"

"Choose one sound – for now, my voice – and focus your whole mind on only that. Shut the rest out and they'll all go away. Just keep trying; you can do it." She was still struggling; Michael wished he could wrap his arms around, reassure her that everything would be alright – that her world wouldn't sound like this forever – but for now she needed Doctor Marchetti far more than she needed Michael, the man. "Maybe closing your eyes would help," he suggested.

Jaime closed her eyes and concentrated as hard as she could. She thought about how much she loved the sound of Michael's voice...and slowly it grew in her mind until it was the only thing she heard. "Keep talking," she told him. "I think it's working." Then she giggled as her ear picked up yet another random sound. "Your stomach is growling," she said, her spirits lifting.

"Guess I shouldn't have skipped lunch," he laughed.

Jaime opened her eyes. "I think I can really do this," she said happily. "It's still weird, though."

* * *

"Do you have a bionic ear, too?" Jaime asked Steve as they headed to the court for their morning tennis game.

"Nope; it's my eye."

"_Really?_" She stopped in her tracks and stared at him. "I couldn't even tell!" Then Steve saw her blush. (She was always so cute when she blushed!) "Um..." she began, "just how well can you see with it, anyway?"

Steve chuckled. "Relax. I can't see through your clothes or anything like that."

"Okay," Jaime sighed. "That's good. So...what does it do?"

"Well, I can see into the distance, I can magnify things too small for a regular eye to see...and I can see in the dark."

"Cool! C'mon – it's time for you to get your butt kicked!" Jaime skipped her way onto the tennis court and was good to her word, beating him 6-3, 6-love.

* * * * *


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

Jaime spent the next few days taking long walks with Michael, gleefully (but humbly) beating Steve at tennis and exercising her new-found ability to listen in on just about anything she chose. She found she could hear which radio station Oscar turned on when he returned to his car after a visit. (He seemed to prefer the classics.) Rudy liked his lunchtime Reuben sandwich with extra dressing and easy on the sauerkraut (she had to agree with him there). She could even bring the outside indoors by focusing on the birds, the breeze and the sound of the river's gentle rippling.

One afternoon, she was just listening idly, not focusing on any one thing in particular, when she picked up on two strange, unfamiliar voices from somewhere in the parking lot.

"I'm telling you Goldman will be here," a man was saying. "I've been tracking him; he shows up here every day after he leaves the office."

"And here we've been waiting for him in DC," the other one grumbled. "What's he driving these days?"

"Dark blue Continental. I've even got the plate number, so there's no mistake. Next time he parks here..._boom!_"

The two men shared a laugh, and Jaime flew bolt-upright in her bed. 'Boom' – did that mean...a bomb? Or maybe a gun? She had no idea what to do, but knew there was no time to waste thinking about it. She tore down the hallway setting a new bionic speed record in her race for Steve's room.

Empty; Steve wasn't there. "Where's Colonel Austin?" she shouted to a nurse.

Startled, the nurse jumped at the fierce tone in Jaime's voice. "Is everything alright?" she asked.

"Not if I don't find Steve – fast!" Jaime replied.

"Check the cafeteria...or I could page him if you want."

"There's no time," Jaime called over her shoulder as she bolted toward the elevator. She pressed the button for the lowest level, intending to try the cafeteria and then maybe the gym but when the doors opened, there was Steve. She nearly collided with him before throwing her arms around him in a near-panic.

"Jaime, what it is? What's wrong?" he asked. (Was she having another episode? She seemed half out of her mind!)

"It's Oscar!" she whispered. "They're gonna try and kill Oscar...or hurt him or...I don't know what! But we have to do something!"

Quickly, Steve led Jaime into his room and closed the door. "Tell me exactly what happened," he said. As soon as she'd finished explaining, Steve hit his call button to summon Rudy and then picked up his bedside telephone. "Russ," he began when Oscar's assistant answered the phone, "has Oscar left yet?"  
Steve kept his free arm around Jaime's waist, afraid she would bolt away out of fear or panic. "No? Good. Keep him there. I'm not sure what's going on yet, but he needs to _stay put_. Thanks." He hung up just as Rudy knocked once and came in, closing the door behind him.

The nurse had flagged him down and filled him in on Jaime's frantic dash down the hallway, so the doctor was already on full alert.

"Get Security – every available man -" Steve told him, "and have them comb the entire grounds, especially the parking lot, and round up anyone who doesn't have a solid reason to be here."

"What's going on?" Rudy questioned. He turned to Jaime. "Are you alright?"

Jaime nodded, looking anything but alright. Steve tightened his arm around her when he felt her begin to tremble. We'll explain everything," he promised, "but please get Security going on this first."

Rudy picked up the phone and made the call, then sank into a chair beside his patients. Steve told him what Jaime had overheard while Rudy reached over to make sure her vital signs were still stable. She looked pale, frightened and as though she might be sick at any moment.

"Maybe I should take Jaime back to her bed," Rudy suggested.

Jaime shook her head. "I wanna help! If I can..." she added quietly. Even her voice was shaking.

"We'll wait here for now," Rudy decided. "Once Security does their thing, maybe we can have anyone they might pick up confined to a conference room – then Jaime can listen and see if she recognizes the two voices."

Steve nodded. "Good idea."

"I can do that," Jaime confirmed. "I just...why would they wanna hurt Oscar?"

"He's a very important man, Sweetheart," Steve reminded her. "Lots of secrets in that head that people would pay boatloads of money to get at – or to silence."

Jaime shivered. Her instincts told her that one of those secrets was bionics.

* * *

"Alright, Honey," Rudy said, leading Jaime to a chair just outside a locked conference room door. "One of the guards inside has a walkie-talkie, so you let the guard out here know if you hear one of those voices – and what they said. We'll take care of the rest."

Jaime nodded solemnly. So much rode on her ability to do this, to isolate what she heard; she hoped she was up to the challenge! With Steve holding her hand, she closed her eyes and began to listen.

"What's this all about?" someone demanded. "You can't hold us here without cause! I haven't done anything wrong!" (It wasn't one of the two men she'd heard earlier.)

"You're on government property without authorization; that's cause enough," someone else snapped. (Jaime assumed it was a guard.)

"I want a lawyer," another unfamiliar voice insisted.

"You haven't been charged with anything – so you don't need a lawyer. _Yet,_" the guard replied.

"I hope you'll be giving us dinner if we have to stay here any longer!"

Jaime tensed. It was _him_! She opened her eyes and motioned to the guard at the door. "One of them just asked for dinner," she told him.

"Better be good, too," she heard his cohort grumble. "Gruel or bread and water ain't gonna cut it."

"And he's talking to his partner about gruel," Jaime added. "That's them; both of 'em."

The guard relayed the information to Security inside the conference room and within minutes, the doors were opened. Several very confused-looking men and one woman were escorted out of the building by a uniformed officer...and Jaime could see two men still inside who were being placed in handcuffs.

Jaime stood up and threw her arms around Steve, almost crying with relief. "It's okay now," he said soothingly. "You did a great job." Slowly, he led her back to her room...where another Security man was waiting for them.

"You were right on target," the guard explained. "We found a bomb hidden in the bushes behind Quadrant One. They were either out to assassinate Goldman – or create enough of a diversion to kidnap him. Either way, excellent work. We'll call and give Goldman's office the all-clear."

"Thank you," Jaime said meekly. She sank into her bed, completely exhausted.

* * *

"Jaime, 'thank you' isn't nearly enough," Oscar told her that night. "But thank you – very, very much – for what you did today. It took a lot of courage, and you saved my life and who knows how many other innocent lives, as well."

"Is that the kind of thing your agents do?" Jaime asked.

"Not on a daily basis – not to that intensity – but yes, sometimes we do," Steve told her. He hadn't left Jaime's side since bringing her back to her room.

"Maybe I'd make a good agent someday, then, huh?"

Oscar hesitated. "Maybe, but right now you need to concentrate on _you_, on getting yourself back up to speed on your past – and your present."

"I have to do something with myself when I get outta here," she persisted. "So where do I apply?"

Steve and Oscar exchanged bemused glances. "You come and see me when you're settled in your own place, comfortable and ready to get out into the world," Oscar promised. "We'll talk then."

* * * * *


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

Oscar saw to it that the very next day, Jaime received a Citizen's Certificate of Bravery – complete with medal attached – for saving his life. It wasn't presented publicly (of course), but since Jaime didn't know the way it all usually worked, she was ecstatic and proud as she hung it on the wall behind her bed.

Michael stopped in on his afternoon rounds and Jaime excitedly threw her arms around his neck and pointed toward the wall. "Did you see it?"

"Not yet, but I heard about it," he told her. "And I have never been prouder of you." Without stopping to think about where they were or what he was supposed to be doing, Michael responded to Jaime's embrace with one of his own, pulling her in for a long, slow kiss. A page (for another doctor) over the intercom snapped him back to reality and he gently eased Jaime away...and back to her bed.

"You've got laps in fifteen minutes," he reminded her, searching deep inside himself for his best 'bedside manner'. "I need to check you over and then I'll let you get ready – and Rudy and I will meet you on the track."

Jaime sighed to herself at the abrupt change in his demeanor...but she understood. She extended her arm for the required pulse-taking, then wriggled all fingers and toes to prove they were in working order. She tried to rope his eyes back into meeting hers, but Michael carefully looked just off to the side. Every time he crossed that line, he stepped a little further...and he knew it had to stop. He just hoped he had the willpower to stop it.

* * *

Rudy whistled under his breath as Jaime crossed the finish line and Michael hit the button on the stopwatch. "Forty-five miles an hour!" he called to her. "Why don't you swim a few laps to cool off?"

"Oh, c'mon," Jaime protested. "Wasn't that enough?"

"Your suit's in the changing room, waiting for you," Rudy told her.

"Slavedriver," Jaime grumbled as she headed toward the pool area.

Once she was in the water and no longer able to hear them, Michael turned to Rudy. "If she needs more spontaneous memories before she can live on her own – and I agree that she does – it doesn't seem like she's getting that here. Physically, she's been well enough to leave for weeks now..."

"Even Oscar is starting to set his sights toward her release," Rudy admitted. "But you're right; we've been getting nowhere with her. Any fresh ideas?"

"Maybe she needs a stronger trigger. Something she can actually see – and experience – rather than a photo she just holds in her hands."

"And your suggestion is...?"

Michael took a deep breath; this one was hard for him. "Let's have Steve take her to Ojai," he began. "Not out in public – I know that's not do-able yet...but to his ranch, to some of their old favorite spots...just to see what happens."

"There's a base hospital nearby," Rudy said, falling in line with the idea. "Steve could take Jaime there if she has any sort of a problem – and we could be there within an hour or two."

"Exactly. It could work," Michael continued. "And I know Steve will take good care of her – no worries there. He'll be watching her as closely as we would."

Rudy nodded. "You go and make sure our patient doesn't try to skip out on her laps. I'll talk to Steve."

* * *

Steve was enthusiastic...but also quite wary. "Isn't that a bit dangerous?" he asked. "I mean, in terms of those attacks she was having...and due to the fact that pretty much the entire population of Ojai believes that she's dead..."

"You'll have to keep her away from public places, of course," Rudy explained. "But this may be just what Jaime needs to start those memories of hers flowing back again – especially memories of you."

"Does Oscar know about this?" Steve queried.

"Not yet," Rudy admitted. "But my first concern – even before any National Security issues – is my patient's well-being. If I present it to him correctly, I don't really see how he could say no."

"You know I'll do anything to help Jaime. My parents live just up the road, though..."

"Do you think they'd be able to keep it to themselves, if they found out Jaime is alive?" Rudy wondered.

"They've kept our bionics a secret for an awfully long time now."

"Then maybe you should call them, once you get to the ranch and get Jaime settled in. It might do her some good to meet them – and even trigger some memories, if we're lucky."

"This'll be an even bigger shock to them than learning about cybernetic limbs...but I think they can handle it," Steve supposed. "Have you talked to Jaime about any of this?"

"I wanted to run it past you first, to see if you felt you could deal with it."

"Deal with it?" Steve was confused. "Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, best case scenario, this could put Jaime back into your arms – where she belongs. But worst case...it could be another dead end and we could find out that her memory is truly gone for good."

"Or she could have another collapse," Steve added. "But I'm ready; I'll do whatever it takes."

And so it was arranged: Steve and Jaime would leave the next morning on their road trip to Ojai.

* * *

While Michael was helping Jaime into the car (complete with a quick kiss and a long, lingering look), Steve was getting final instructions from Rudy and Oscar.

"Remember to keep her out of sight, Pal," Oscar reminded him. Steve nodded. "It won't be forever; just until we figure out how to handle this."

"And the base hospital is close by," Rudy fretted, "so if anything goes wrong -"

"I'll have her there faster than you can blink, Doc. Don't worry; I'll take good care of her." Steve got into the driver's seat and started the car. Rudy, Oscar and Michael all waved as Steve and Jaime drove through the gates...and out into the world. Each man was lost in his own separate thoughts.

For Michael, saying goodbye had been even harder than he'd anticipated. Jaime had clung to his hand, reluctant to let go, and he couldn't help but kiss her. (After making sure the others were still preoccupied, that is.) She'd only be gone for a few days, but he would miss her terribly. _What am I going to do when she __**really**__ leaves?_ he wondered. His feelings for Jaime had grown deeper than he'd ever intended them to...but did he love her? Should he ask to to settle somewhere nearby, once she was no longer his patient – or maybe to move in with him? Michael knew he had a lot of thinking to do.

Rudy had trouble watching the patient he'd nurtured so carefully for all of these months drive away, for the moment no longer in his care or within his ability to protect her. He was also worried about Steve, since this trip could potentially bring him closer to Jaime...or it could drive them apart forever. The doctor hoped he had made the right choice in allowing them to go.

Oscar's quandary may have been the deepest and most complicated of all. Jaime had battled back from near-death (well, from death itself, really) and had very nearly made a full recovery now. She deserved the chance to live a normal life again, and in the place of her choosing. He just wasn't sure how he was going to manage returning a 'ghost' to the world of the living – without repercussions for her or for anyone else.

* * *

Jaime smiled shyly at Steve as she watched him drive with one casual hand on the wheel and his left arm resting on the open window. She wished she felt half as relaxed as he looked. The whole idea of this trip had come up so suddenly that she really hadn't had much time to consider it. She was going to miss Michael an awful lot – and she wondered what she and Steve could possibly find to talk about to fill four entire days and three nights! He'd told her he had horses, so there was a common interest, at least. Jaime wasn't sure if she still knew how to ride, but she knew somehow that she did love horses. Maybe they could even take a ride into town together...wherever 'town' was. Some place called 'Ojai'. She just hoped it wouldn't be too boring...for either of them.

* * * * *


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

"So...what's up with the sudden road trip?" Jaime asked, trying to sound casual. She was sure there was some intention behind it _somewhere_...but what was it?

Steve shrugged and flashed her a quick smile before looking back at the road in front of them. "Rudy and Michael thought that since you've been working so hard, you deserve a vacation...some time away from the gym, the track and the pool so you can just relax."

"I'm all set, too," Jaime laughed. "They even gave me a new pair of sunglasses – movie star style!"

"Can I see 'em?" Steve asked (knowing that the real reason for the particular gift was to hide her identity as they drove through the outskirts of Ojai on the way to his ranch).

Jaime pulled them out of her bag and held them up. "Should I model them?" she offered.

"Only real way to tell what they look like."

"Okay." She put them on her face – and giggled as she looked in the side mirror. "I look like a blonde Audrey Hepburn!" she exclaimed.

Steve tried not to react, but he wondered if that was what Rudy called 'spontaneous memory'. Although he was watching the road, he was also watching Jaime...much more closely than she realized, hoping that things would work out the way everyone had planned. He couldn't help but wonder, too, if Jaime would ever be able to return to Ojai – or any sort of a 'normal' life – without having to hide the fact that she even existed. It seemed like a tall order...even for Oscar.

Oscar was taking the time now to consider the challenge that he knew lay directly ahead of him. Jaime was growing more restless by the day, and although this trip would hopefully serve to keep her curiosity and her wanderlust in check temporarily, he knew he needed a long term solution – and he needed it _soon_. One alternative (suggested by Jack Hanson of the NSB) had been to send Jaime to live out the rest of her days on The Island – the government (specifically the NSB's) private warehouse for former agents and security risks. To Oscar, that choice was unthinkable; he vowed to _never_ let that happen! In order to prevent it, though, he had to come up with a workable alternative. At the moment, he had nothing.

"What do you do," Jaime asked, "when you're not chasing terrorists around the globe for Oscar?"

Steve chuckled. "I like to just kick back and spend time with nature – and with my horses."

"Who takes care of them when you're working?"

"My parents, mostly, but there's a neighbor down the road I can pay to do it when they aren't home."

"Your parents? Do they live close by?" Jaime wondered.

"'Bout a stone's throw from my place – wanna meet them?"

"I'd love that!" Jaime exclaimed. Every new person that she met (with the exception of the two potential assassins) was fascinating to her – another piece of the world-at-large that she was still just tentatively getting to know.

Steve had gone over various scenarios in his mind as to how he might tell his parents – especially his mother – that Jaime was alive. Helen Elgin came from sturdy stock – it took a lot to throw her off balance – but this would be quite a shock, no matter how he approached it. In the end, of course, she'd be overjoyed at the news...but she and Jim would have to be carefully warned of Jaime's memory lapse and the need to keep certain things from her – for her own safety.

"I think you'll really like my mom," Steve told her. "She's a lot like you: warm, honest and friendly." He left out the fact that Helen (and Jim) had raised Jaime from the age of 16, when her parents had been killed. Up until her amnesia had struck, they'd remained her surrogate parents. Would Jaime remember that when she saw them again? Steve wanted that almost as badly as he wanted her to remember _him_.

"I know they'll be wonderful," Jaime said shyly. "They raised you, didn't they?"

Michael had always been energetic and somewhat high-strung, but Rudy noticed that today he seemed downright restless. "She'll be okay," he assured his friend. "She's in good hands."

"I know," Michael replied. He truly did want what was best for Jaime. She deserved a relationship she didn't have to hide – not even temporarily. Still, his life up to this point had been all facts: endless studying in college and med school and years of research afterward. Allowing himself to get close to a woman was a luxury he'd always told himself he simply couldn't afford...until Jaime. Whether or not he wanted – or even intended – to let her into his heart, she was simply _there_, on his mind when he rose in the morning and when he went to bed at night. Should he be expected to give that up, when it was the first time anyone had made him feel this way? Was that the right thing to do...for either one of them?

Suddenly, Oscar had a brainstorm. "Russ," he called into the intercom, "I need you to get me a copy of Jaime and Steve's engagement announcement. No, I don't know the date, but it was sometime after her skydiving accident, so work from there. Find out how many papers carried it and where they were distributed. I'd also like a copy of her obituary."

Oscar had friends in many places – including newspaper editors. If he called in a few favors – and if he was very, very lucky – he thought he just might manage to pull this off.

Steve watched Jaime even closer (while trying to appear like he wasn't) as they reached the outskirts of Ojai. It was hard to tell when she was wearing dark sunglasses, but her face seemed to remain neutral, taking in the sights as though seeing them for the very first time. "Oh, that was the picture Rudy showed me!" she exclaimed as he turned the corner to avoid going through the main part of town. Jaime had caught a glimpse on the post office and the blocks-long arched promenade and she'd recognized it from the photo; that was a good sign.

"Have I been here before?" she queried.

"Why do you ask?"

"They showed me a picture, so they must've thought I'd remember something about it. Maybe you sent me a postcard once...?"

"Maybe," he agreed. The next four days, he realized, would be even harder than he'd thought.

Jaime removed the sunglasses as they started up the winding road that led to Steve's ranch; with the trees that shaded the way on either side, she no longer needed them. Steve pointed out his parents' place as they passed it (still pondering how he was going to tell them _this_ news) and grinned at Jaime's excitement when she spotted the horses in their corral.

"Is there time for a ride before lunch?" she asked eagerly.

"You don't wanna unpack and get settled in first?"

"I can do that later. I haven't been on a horse in...forever!" she exulted.

"Your wish is my command," Steve said gallantly. "You can pick some apples from the tree over there and feed the whole gang of 'em, if you want." He parked the car and watched Jaime choose the best, ripest apples while he unloaded their suitcases from the trunk. She was like a small child on a field trip, and her excitement was contagious. He stood back to see what would happen next. There were three horses in the corral: his two...and Dancer, the horse Jaime had left behind. He was a tall, dark sable stallion with a jet-black mane. Would Jaime recognize him?

Somehow, she knew to approach the horses slowly, to offer first her hand for their inspection and then the apple. "Choose your ride," Steve told her. Jaime moved from one horse to the next, offering each of them a treat and looking them over...before settling on Dancer. Steve's heart felt like it was caught in his throat as he watched, not daring to move.

"Hello there," Jaime said, softly stroking the stallion's mane. "What's your name?"

No, he realized, she didn't remember – and yet something had drawn her back to her own horse. "That's Dancer," he told her. "I'll leave you two to get acquainted while I take the bags inside. Be back in a few minutes."

Steve set Jaime's bags down in the guest room and then – while she was still preoccupied with the horses, he picked up the phone. "Mom?" he began carefully, "you might wanna sit down. I've got something important to tell you..."

(to be continued - soon!)


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

"_**What**__?"_ Helen Elgin nearly dropped the receiver. Her initial cry of disbelief brought Jim rushing from the other room. "Get on the extension!" she whispered urgently. When she heard him pick up the line in the den, she finally spoke to her son. "I – I'm sorry...could you repeat that?"

Her voice was shaking with emotion but so far she was taking it far better than Steve thought she would – although he didn't realize that at that moment she thought her son had lost his mind with grief. Her intention was to alert Rudy Wells and Oscar Goldman just as soon as they'd hung up.

"It's true, Mom," Steve said quietly. "I couldn't believe it either at first...but Jaime is alive. They saved her. It's just that...well...there's still a slight problem..." He went on to explain (in the simplest terms possible) how Jaime had been revived – and what had happened since then. Helen and Jim were both speechless. They listened to the whole story from start to finish before Helen spoke again.

"When can we see her?" she asked – still not quite daring to believe.

"We're at the ranch right now," Steve told them. "Jaime wanted to ride the horses for a bit before she gets settled in. Would you like to come by for lunch? She said she'd love to meet you."

"_Meet_ us...?" Helen queried.

Steve could tell she wasn't quite getting it yet; it was too much to digest all at once. "She doesn't know anything about her past, Mom," Steve reminded her. "She may remember you when she sees you – but she also may not. And you can't react badly if she doesn't; just stay friendly and neutral." He went on to explain that most subjects (other than the present day) were strictly off-limits for now...and why. "They still don't know what caused her to have that awful pain," Steve concluded, "so we have to be careful not to shock her – just let things develop at Jaime's pace. I've been told to answer her questions as simply and with as few details as possible." He gave them a few examples of how he'd done that, then asked "So...how about lunch?"

"Maybe coffee later would be a better idea," Steve's stepfather suggested. "I think your mother and I might need a little time to take this all in."

"Yeah, you're probably right," Steve acknowledged. "How 'bout around 2, then?"

"We'll be there," Jim confirmed.

"We love you, Son," Helen added in a tremulous voice, "and...and Jaime too."

When they hung up, Steve headed out to the corral and Jim rushed into the next room to embrace his wife.

* * *

Steve expected to find Jaime still outside of the corral, petting and communing with the horses. Instead, she had apparently gone into the barn, found a saddle and was trotting Dancer around the grounds! Steve was awestruck; she'd remembered how to ride! He was sure this was something Rudy and Michael hadn't talked to her about. She'd attached the saddle and mounted the horse and was successfully maneuvering him where she wanting him to go – at her chosen speed. What's more, she was utterly radiant. Steve watched for a few minutes then grabbed a saddle, mounted his own mare and rode speedily to Jaime's side.

"Hey there, Little Missy," he said in his best Southern drawl, "lookin' mighty fine on that there piece o' horse flesh."

Jaime laughed happily. "I think he likes me."

"I _know_ he does," Steve told her. The horse had seemed to be in its own brand of mourning ever since Jaime had 'died', and Steve had been concerned that it was affecting the animal's health. To his pleasant surprise, Dancer's eyes were gleaming and his step was playful again. Jaime was back.

* * *

"It's like seeing a ghost..." Jim said softly. Helen looked as though she might faint. They'd called Steve back just after lunch, requesting some way to see Jaime before she saw them...to let it sink in so the shock wouldn't register on their faces. This had worked out well, since Jaime didn't know they were coming and had pleaded for more time with Dancer after lunch. Jim and Helen had walked up the driveway and stood now at the dining room window, watching Jaime cantor the horse across the corral and back, turning the corners with the ease of a well-practiced horsewoman.

"You alright, Mom?" Steve asked.

Helen nodded. Her face was pale, and she was smiling just slightly through her tears. "What about you?" she inquired of her son. "How are you handling...this?"

"It's hard," Steve admitted. "And I was angry at first – really angry – that they didn't tell me. But now I'm just so happy that she's alive. If only..."

His voice had trailed off, but he didn't need to say more; his parents understood.

* * *

Soon enough, Steve saw Jaime swing off of her horse and remove the saddle. "You ready?" he asked his parents.

"I will be; just give me a minute," Helen requested, quickly wiping away her tears and rinsing her face.

"I'll keep Jaime outside on the porch," Steve told them. "Just come on out when you're ready." He went outside and seated himself on the porch swing just as Jaime turned toward the house. As he'd expected she would, Jaime sat down beside him and began to set the swing in motion with her feet.

"Thank you," she said simply.

"For what?"

"For bringing me here; I can see why you love it so much. It feels like..._home._"

Steve wasn't sure where the present day left off and memory took over in what she'd just said, but before he had time to think about it, the front door swung open and his parents stepped out onto the porch – with Jim's arm around Helen's waist for support. Steve took Jaime's hand and led her over to where they stood.

"They're here," he told her. "Jaime Sommers, I'd like you to meet my parents – Helen and Jim Elgin. Mom, Dad...this is Jaime."

Jaime stood back for a barely noticeable moment, whether sizing them up or remembering them, no one knew. Three people on that porch held their collective breath until the fourth burst into her widest smile and hugged first Helen and then Jim. "It's so good to finally meet you!" she exclaimed. "And I can't wait to hear all about Steve when he was a little boy!"

Helen looked up from embracing Jaime and caught Steve's eye. How on Earth would she talk about Steve's childhood...without including Jaime? The two had been practically joined at the hip as children, not even required to knock when they entered each other's houses. She would have to tread very carefully, and suddenly Helen was very much afraid.

* * *

Steve had the coffee already brewing and a plate of cookies waiting on the kitchen table: chocolate chip/pecan, in the hopes they might spark another memory.

"Cookies!" Jaime squealed, offering the plate to Steve's parents before taking one herself. They spent a few pleasant hours in conversation, mostly centering around Steve's time as an astronaut (rather than his childhood) and what the Elgins remembered of Jaime's time on the professional tennis circuit. (Rudy had deemed that a 'safe' topic, as Jaime had already been given the newspaper clippings that detailed her triumphs.)

With a promise to return the following day, Jim and Helen took their leave so that Steve could start preparing supper.

"You can cook, too?" Jaime giggled after his parents had gone.

"That surprises you?"

"Well, I'd have thought someone who walked on the moon would have everything cooked for him." She giggled again. "I thought the next couple days would be take-out or frozen food."

"Disappointed?" Steve asked, grinning as he waved a spatula at her.

"Nope! I think it's cool! Can I help?"

"Guests are firmly prohibited from helping at this ranch," he told her.

"Well, then maybe I'll go for a walk while you do your thing," Jaime said lightly.

Alarm bells sounded in Steve's head. "Why don't you wait and I'll show you around a bit after dinner?" he suggested.

"I won't go very far," she said, skipping out onto the porch.

"Jaime -!" he called after her. He smiled as, instead of going for a walk, she headed back toward the horses. He stirred the sizzling beef and seasoned the vegetables and watched Jaime retrieve the saddle from the barn again and hop up onto Dancer's back. She made several long, slow circles around the corral and Steve looked back down at what he was doing. Everything would be okay, after all.

A little while later, Steve leaned out the back door to let Jaime know dinner was almost ready – and suddenly everything was a far as it could possibly be from alright. _Jaime and Dancer were gone!_

* * * * *


	19. Chapter 19

Chapter Nineteen

"Jaime!" Steve called (already sensing he wouldn't get an answer). His eye focused down to the end of the long driveway...and Jaime wasn't there. She must have gone up and over the hill – toward the lake! Even worse...if she'd nudged Dancer to the right from the top of the hill, she'd be heading straight for the center of town! Steve leaped over the fence and ran faster than he'd ever run before, up toward the top of the hill. His eye began to scan in every direction and while he still didn't see Jaime (or her horse), he picked up the very slight indentations of horse hooves in the grass, leading down toward their old tree stump by the lake.

Steve blazed a trail to the old stump...the faint hoof prints continued on...and so did he. (Thankfully, the park was nearly empty at dinnertime and the few people who were there were paying him no notice.) He saw Dancer first, pawing at the grass beside the large tree that spread its branches out across the lake. _Oh God, no! Not __**that**__ tree!_ Maybe she hadn't noticed, he hoped. Maybe Jaime was on the other side of the tree, tossing stones into the water. Maybe...but there she was, staring at the one thing he'd wanted least for her to see, carved into the bark of the tree more than a decade earlier: Jaime + Steve, surrounded by a huge heart. She didn't seem to hear him approach.

"Jaime...?" he said, very quietly.

Jaime whirled around with anger and confusion is her eyes. "What the hell _is_ this?" she demanded through a cloud of tears. "You...you lied to me?"

Steve was floored. "No, Sweetheart...I -"

"Why?" she cried plaintively.

Before he could find the words to answer her, Jaime's eyes rolled up into her head, she slumped back against the tree and then slid to the ground, clutching her head.

* * *

Steve paced anxiously outside the door to Jaime's room at the Base Hospital. Rudy and Michael were on their way – expected at any moment – and Oscar had been notified and would be arriving before morning. Meanwhile, the Security Level Six doctor who was attending to Jaime had spoken with Rudy by phone and – per his orders – was allowing no one in to see her until her own doctor could examine her. Steve told himself she wouldn't know he was there anyway; she'd been delirious with pain and only barely conscious when he brought her in. Rudy had requested that she be heavily sedated. There'd be nothing Steve could do for Jaime at her bedside, but he felt utterly useless in the hallway – and completely responsible for what had happened.

Logic would have told him that Jaime was already fragile, that her collapse had been simply a matter of time – but he couldn't think logically while wracked with guilt and worry. She'd been doing so well, even seeming to recover the memories of how to saddle and ride a horse – and now this. What had seeing their names carved together in a tree done to Jaime? Over and over in his mind, he saw her face, the tears in her eyes...and heard her ask him _Why_.

'Why', indeed. _Why_ had he allowed himself to look away from her – even for a single second? _Why_ hadn't he insisted she stay in the house with him? When she went outside anyway, _why_ hadn't he gone after her? Preexisting condition or not, Steve felt completely responsible – and thoroughly bereft.

Finally, he saw Michael and Rudy hurrying down the hall. "She got away from me," Steve explained before they could ask, "on her horse."

"Did someone see her – and say something to her?" Michael wondered.

"No. Worse. She saw our names carved into a tree together – from back when we were together in high school. She – she called me a liar...and then she just collapsed."

Rudy patted Steve on the shoulder and wished there was time to stay and reassure him, but they needed to see their patient. Steve couldn't bring himself to sit down and wait, so he beat a path back and forth from the double doors in front to the nurses' desk and finally to Jaime's room...back and forth, back and forth...

That was how Oscar found him, a little more than an hour later. "This is all my fault," Steve told his boss.

"Of course it isn't!" Oscar insisted. He led his exhausted friend to a chair near Jaime's room – and Steve sat down without an argument. "This was bound to happen eventually, Pal. There was only so much any of us could do to protect her."

"But I wasn't protecting her, Oscar – that's the problem! I only looked away for a couple of minutes, and she was gone! I didn't think she'd take off on me, but I should've been watching her every second."

"That's not even possible," Oscar told him. "It sounds like she was determined to take off on her own; she could have gone out the bathroom window or left in the middle of the night. At least this way you were able to find her quickly and get her here. You did the best you could, Steve -"

"Did I?"

"Of course you did. And now she's in the very best possible hands. Jaime will be alright; you have to _know_ that!"

Steve stared at the floor. "She'll never trust me again," he said brokenly.

"I can't see that happening; you're her friend."

"A 'friend' who lied to her? Some friend!" Steve buried his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees.

"When she understands that it was for her own protection, I'm sure that she'll -"

"That she'll what? Thank me for keeping the truth from her, after she trusted me to never, ever lie to her?" Steve said bitterly. "Yeah, I imagine she'll be real grateful for that."

"You're being too hard on yourself," Oscar persisted.

Steve wondered if Jaime would trust _**any**_ of them after this! "I've lost her, Oscar. Probably for good. Maybe we've all lost her..."

* * *

The Base doctor emerged from Jaime's room first, hurrying down the hall before Steve or Oscar could notice him. Rudy came out soon after, with Michael remaining by Jaime's bedside. Steve was immediately on his feet.

"How is she?" he demanded. "Is she conscious? Did she say anything?"

"She's under sedation, Steve," Rudy explained. "She did surface briefly, but wasn't entirely coherent. She mumbled something about a dream – and that the two of you were together...a couple."

"What else did she say?"

Rudy shook his head. "That was all. We felt it was best to re-sedate her. In the morning, we'll transfer her back to the complex, but I'd like her to sleep through the night here first."

"A dream," Steve repeated, puzzling aloud. "She doesn't realize – or doesn't remember – what she actually saw?"

"We don't know yet," Rudy admitted.

"Either way," Steve went on, "I'm not gonna lie to her anymore. She deserves to know the truth about why she collapsed – and about us."

"I agree," Rudy told him. "It's time to start telling Jaime the truth."

* * * * * 


	20. Chapter 20

Chapter Twenty

Jaime woke before the sun was up the next morning, to find Michael beside her bed. (They had decided the night before that it was best she not see Steve until they knew what was going on with her condition.)

"Hi there," he said softly.

Jaime looked around, trying to place herself. "Where am I?" she wondered.

"You're at Los Angeles Air Base Hospital," Michael told her.

"Then...I wasn't dreaming?" Jaime puzzled.

"That depends on what you think you were dreaming about," he said carefully.

Jaime sat up and closed her eyes, trying to call up the memory. "Steve and I...we were...a couple?" She opened her eyes again and looked pleadingly at Michael. "Were we in love? Is that what everyone isn't telling me?"

Michael eased himself onto the side of the bed and wrapped his arm around Jaime's shoulders...just in time to ease her back onto the pillows when she collapsed again.

* * *

"Is it me?" Steve asked, meeting with the doctors (and Oscar) once Jaime had been safely returned to her regular bed at Rudy's complex. "Am **I** the trigger for Jaime's attacks?"

"We don't know that yet," Rudy cautioned. "To be completely honest, yes – it's possible. But there could also be a cause we haven't considered yet. One way or the other, we _will_ find out. I still agree that it's time to start telling Jaime the truth."

"I don't wanna hurt her," Steve said miserably.

"We'll ease into this gradually," Rudy proposed. "I know how much you'd like to see her – and I think that's important. You should be there when Jaime wakes up again. We sedated her for the transfer, but she'll be coming around again in another hour or two."

"What do I tell her?" Steve wondered. He was more afraid than ever of causing Jaime's pain...or worse, sending her into another coma.

"Do just what you've been doing – answer her questions honestly, but with no more detail than she's actually requesting," Rudy told him. "If you feel a subject might be too dangerous, try to distract her if you can...or hit the call button."

Steve nodded. "What are the odds of another full relapse – of Jaime having another hemorrhage?"

"It's unlikely," Michael interjected, "but it _is_ possible." It was going to be hard for him to leave Jaime in Steve's hands – even temporarily – while she was this fragile, but Michael had to keep an eye on the goal: returning Jaime to a fully-functioning woman who could cope on her own with whatever came her way. He told himself that Jaime's well-being came before anything else – especially now – and if she needed to see and speak with Steve, then that's what had to happen. "Rudy and I will be just outside, in case anything goes wrong," he promised.

Steve took a deep breath, fighting back his unexpected case of nerves. "You'll be fine, Pal," Oscar assured him as Steve headed for the door. "We'll be up in a few minutes." When Steve was gone, Oscar turned to the two doctors. "How much danger is she in, truthfully?"

"To be absolutely honest," Rudy answered, "we just don't know."

* * *

Steve stood at the window, alternately looking outside and back at Jaime's bed, where she was still sleeping peacefully. What would he do if it turned out he was what was causing her pain? How would he live with knowing she was out there somewhere in the world...and he couldn't be with her, even as a friend? _It's still a lot better than mourning her death,_ he reminded himself. He was still deciding what he might say to her when Jaime began to stir.

Steve hurried to her side, standing just back from the bed in case she didn't want him any closer. Jaime woke slowly and looked all around the room before turning her attention to Steve. "Every time I wake up, I'm in a different place," she said softly. She didn't seem upset at seeing him there, so he stepped a little closer.

"How do you feel?" he asked. "Any pain?"

"No...no pain..." she began. (Steve could tell she wasn't quite fully awake yet.) "But I think... I...we...need to talk. Don't we?"

"Yeah, we do," he acknowledged, pulling a chair up to her bedside. He waited, intending, as promised, to let Jaime lead the way.

"Was I dreaming – or is there really a tree with our names carved in it?" she asked slowly.

"Yeah, there is. You weren't dreaming. At least, not about that."

"Did I carve it – or did you?"

"I did; when we were in high school."

"Oh." Jaime let Steve's admission sink in. "So...we dated in high school?"

"Yeah; we did." Steve watched her carefully. So far, there were no signs that she was in any pain or distress.

"Why didn't you tell me – especially when I asked you? Steve...why did you lie about it?"

"Rudy and Michael thought it was best if you learned about one new thing at a time. We talked about it, and agreed this was one of the things that would wait. I'm so sorry. I never meant to lie to you – or to hurt you in any way. We were all just trying to protect you...from more of that awful pain."

"How close...were we?" Jaime queried.

"In high school?" Steve warily steered away from the broader question, sticking only to what he felt she could handle. "Well, I took you to my Senior Class New Years Eve party – got a lot of ribbing for it, too."

"Why?"

"You're a couple of years younger than me; they said I was 'robbing the cradle'," he explained.

Jaime laughed, still sounding very weak, but Steve took it as a good sign. "Did we...kiss? At midnight, I mean?"

"Well, that's the custom on New Years," Steve said lightly.

"And...other times?"

"A few," he confirmed.

"Oh." Jaime thought about that for a few moments. "What split us up?"

"Well, I went off to college, then into the Air Force – then you went off to college and onto the tennis circuit. By then, I was at NASA – our lives just took separate courses there, I guess."

"So it wasn't some horribly bitter break-up, then?" Jaime deduced.

"No; nothing like that. We just...drifted apart."

"I guess that's why we can still be such good friends, huh?" Jaime said brightly.

"You're probably right," he responded.

"Thank you for being honest with me, Steve."

Steve nodded and smiled. He sensed that she was finished asking questions – for now. "I think there are a couple of doctors who'd like to take a look at their patient now," he told her.

"Okay." Jaime shot him another smile as he opened the door. "Can we talk again soon?"

"Count on it," Steve promised.

* * * * * 


	21. Chapter 21

Chapter Twenty-One

Jaime was back on her feet within 48 hours, surprising even her doctors with her determination to simply _get on with it._ "Did you know that Steve and I used to date?" Jaime asked Michael when they resumed their daily walk together.

"Yes," Michael told her. "We'd hoped we could tell you ourselves – or better yet, let Steve tell you – when the time was right. No one intended for you to find out the way you did."

"I know," she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck and tilting her head back to smile at him. "You were all trying to protect me – and I appreciate that. But I'm okay now...I think. At least, as far as I know. What's your diagnosis, Doctor Marchetti?" Her eyes met his flirtatiously and Michael's arms automatically encircled her waist, returning her embrace. Doctor and Man had just become hopelessly entangled together.

"Well, you'll have to tell me," he said. "Have you had any more of the pain?"

"Nope. I'd tell you if I did."

_Would you?_ Michael wondered silently. "Not even a twinge?" he questioned. Jaime shook her head, grinning happily. "What about dreams?"

"Yeah – I have dreams. No bad ones, though. Just normal-person dreams."

"I'm glad," Michael affirmed. He couldn't help noticing how Jaime's eyes gleamed with happiness and health...and he couldn't stop himself from kissing her.

Jaime responded by leaning fully into his arms and deepening the kiss. She'd never felt like this before – at least, not that she could remember – and she liked it...a lot. Being out here with Michael – and being in his arms – made her feel like a _woman_ rather than just a patient (or a lab experiment). It was a feeling she found she couldn't get enough of...and never wanted to lose.

* * *

"How are you dealing with all of this?" Oscar asked Steve. He had seen Jaime leave the building with Michael and while he had no idea just how close they'd become, he knew the sight of them together must pain his friend terribly.

"Oh, I'm okay," Steve said absently.

"You could at least try to sound convincing, if you're going to lie to an Intelligence man," Oscar told him.

"I'm glad Jaime's okay, that she's alive and recovering so well. The rest...I'm still working on," Steve allowed. (He had never been a man used to sharing his feelings.)

"How much does she know now – about the two of you?"

"I've told her we dated in high school, that we were close then and have stayed friends ever since. She knows my parents became her guardians – I told her that this morning – but she doesn't know we grew up together...or -"

"Or that you were engaged?" Oscar finished for him.

"Yeah, that. I can't find the words to tell her that, and since she hasn't asked..."

"You're a good man – you know that, right?"

Steve looked away, the emotions of the moment almost too much for him. "I just wish I was a good man for Jaime," he said finally.

"You will be someday," Oscar told him. "I still firmly believe that."

"I hope you're right," Steve allowed, looking out the window to see Jaime returning to the complex – with Michael's arm around her waist. Steve stepped in front of the window to shield them from Oscar's view. He didn't really care if Michael was exposed, but – as always – Steve felt the need to protect Jaime. He guessed that no matter what, he always would.

* * *

One other person's view had been completely unobstructed; Rudy happened to glance up from his desk at exactly the right (or, for Michael the wrong) moment. He cornered his young assistant as Michael was leaving Jaime's room. "We need to talk," Rudy sputtered. "In the lab. _**Now.**__"_

Michael paled, guessing correctly what this might be about. As soon as the lab door closed behind them, Rudy made no effort to tone himself down. His voice grew louder and more angry with every word. "Care to tell me just exactly what the _hell_ you're thinking? Getting involved with a patient!"

"I -" Michael began.

"The ethics board would have a field day! Not to mention Oscar! How could you let this happen, Michael? Why?"

Michael had no defense. He was in the wrong – and he knew it. "I...it never went further than a kiss," he hedged (knowing that didn't make it any better).

"Well, Thank God for small favors!" Rudy shouted. (Soundproofing the lab had been his idea and today it was paying off; his protege was getting every ounce of his anger – with both barrels.) "You had no business even laying a _hand_ on her! How could you possibly have imagined this was okay?"

"I...didn't," Michael admitted. "It just...happened."

"Did it? And with absolutely no help from you, I'd imagine? How convenient!"

Michael had never seen Rudy this angry. "Are you taking me off of Jaime's case?" he asked, very quietly.

"Do I need to?" Rudy countered. "You're the best at what you do – and you know that! Jaime needs the best possible care. But is it safe to allow you anywhere near her? Can I trust you, Michael?"

"This won't happen again," Michael promised.

"It had better not!" Rudy stormed. "Or I'll turn you over to the ethics board myself!"

* * *

For the rest of the afternoon, Michael sat at his desk with his head in his hands, trying to figure out a way to return to a strictly doctor-patient relationship – or to any sense of normalcy. He wasn't sure himself just how this had happened; how had someone who had always been fact-based and immersed in his work allowed himself to fall in love – with a _patient_, no less? _Yes_, he finally had to admit to himself, _I __**do**__ love her._

Briefly, he considered pulling himself off of Jaime's case - or leaving medicine entirely if that was what it took to be with her. But...was that what was best for Jaime? Of course not, he chided himself. She may think she needs _Michael_ – and maybe she really does – but she needs _Doctor Marchetti_ far more. Resolving in his own mind what was right, Michael headed out of the office and down the hall to Jaime's room.

* * *

"I understand...I think," Jaime said, her eyes brimming with tears. "Are you in some kind of trouble now?"

"You don't need to worry about that," Michael told her. "This is one hundred percent my fault – and I'm so sorry. I should never have allowed it to happen."

"You weren't the only one there, you know," Jaime pointed out logically. "It takes two."

"I appreciate that, but I still have to take the responsibility, wherever that leads. If you're not comfortable having me as your doctor now, I'll understand, but -"

"Comfortable? Michael, you saved my life! I was _dead_! I'd be six feet under with a stone over my head if it weren't for you!"

"I'd like to continue treating you, but only if you feel that's okay; the choice is entirely yours."

Jaime hesitated – but not for the reason that Michael had feared. "Are..._you_ okay with it?"

"Of course," he said in his best bedside manner. "I want what's best for you."

"And _you're_ the best," Jaime concluded. "So please don't go. Rudy's great with the bionic side of things and you...well, you balance him out."

Michael smiled. "Alright. See you in the gym tomorrow, then?"

Jaime groaned. "Not the weights again?"

"Doctor's orders," he told her. _Doctor Marchetti_ had returned.

* * * * *


	22. Chapter 22

Chapter Twenty-Two

"I'm _bored!_" Jaime announced. She had begun taking her daily walks with Steve now instead of Michael, knowing that Steve held at least some of the keys to unraveling her past. She also suspected he had more than a bit of pull with Oscar – which was what she was hoping to talk about today.

"What do you feel like doing?" Steve offered. "Tennis, maybe? Or we could swim a few laps -"

"Been there, done that," Jaime countered. "_All_ of it! I need something new; I'm stagnating here!"

"I'd hardly say that."

"Well, I would! I mean, I can keep up with you on the track, I don't need your help anymore to get over the high bar and I can bend steel better than Superman! The only thing they're still working on is this Swiss Cheese memory of mine – and that's only memories from before I was sick! Everything they've told me since is still in there! So I'm as 'okay' as I'm gonna get!"

Steve waited, wondering just where she was going with this. She'd conveniently left out the debilitating attacks of pain that – while she hadn't experienced them lately – still loomed threateningly until they could root out the exact cause. Jaime tossed a few stones into the river as she geared up to say what was really on her mind.

"I want to do what you do – or at least, what you do when you're not hanging out here," she told Steve firmly. "I wanna work for Oscar. I'd be good at it, too!"

"I'm sure you would, Sweetheart – when the time is right."

"Arrgh!" Jaime groused. "_When the time is right...later...someday..._I've heard 'em all – ad nauseum, Steve!"

Steve chuckled. She did have a point. "I'm not sure what you're thinking, but it isn't fun or glamorous," he reminded her. "In fact, it's downright dangerous. You never know from one day to the next who might be waiting around the corner, carrying a bullet with your name on it." Steve had a _very_ hard time even imagining Jaime being sent into harm's way, for the good of the government or not.

"I know that!" Jaime protested. "That wasn't a toy bomb those two men brought onto the grounds, you know."

"Yeah, you handled that like -"

"Like _you_ would've?" she concluded.

"Yeah. Like I would've...if I'd had a bionic ear, that is."

Jaime giggled. "So, will you talk to Oscar for me?" she requested.

"I can try and pave the way, but I think you make a pretty convincing argument for yourself." He picked up a stone and sent it skipping – five times – across the river.

"Will you do it today?" Jaime asked. Her own stone skipped six.

* * *

"I don't know, Pal," Oscar hedged when Steve broached the subject (as promised).

"Physically, she's as strong as I am," Steve pointed out.

"It's not her physical abilities that I'm worried about," Oscar explained. "What if she has one of her attacks – and there's no one around to help her, much less get her to safety?"

"Then send me out with her," Steve suggested. "Find a nice, short two-person assignment...even if it's not one you'd normally send me on. Just to let her try her wings. There are _always_ 102 different ways to save the world; pick one. Please?"

Oscar smiled in spite of himself. "I'll talk to Rudy first, then I'll see what I can do."

* * *

"Physically, Jaime's probably in the best shape of her life," Rudy confirmed.

"Like I told Steve, I'm not worried about her physical abilities. Can she handle herself emotionally?" Oscar questioned. "And can you guarantee that she won't collapse under the pressure – that she won't have another one of her attacks?"

"Well...no," Rudy admitted. "Emotionally, she's a very strong woman; she has to be, to deal with everything that's happened to her. So yes, she can handle the pressure. She has the intelligence – and the guts – to carry her through. But in terms of the pain she's experienced...no, I can't guarantee it won't reoccur."

"If I sent her out with Steve," Oscar wondered, "would that be better – or worse?"

"Steve doesn't seem to be the trigger that we were worried he might be," Rudy explained. "And Jaime trusts him; she depends on him, to some extent. It could work." The doctor chuckled slightly. "I do know that we need to find _something_ for her to do – before she starts hefting barbells at our heads."

"Medically speaking, then, are you giving this a green light?" Oscar asked.

"If Steve is with her as a fail-safe, then I'd have to say yes. Let's see what she can do."

* * *

"Well, Young Lady," Oscar began, smiling at his newest agent, "it seems you get your wish."

"You're gonna let me work?" Jaime said excitedly. Realizing her joy might not be appropriate, she forced a serious expression. "Where am I going? What do you need me to do?"

"Where are _**we**_ going," Steve corrected from the doorway before striding into the room. "You've got a partner on this one...Partner."

"You're going to Brazil," Oscar told them both. Steve had already been briefed on the mission, but he had insisted on being present for Jaime's 'first' briefing. "There's a munitions plant there that can't seem to keep its weapons to itself. They're supplying a small band of terrorists who've shown signs they may be heading our way. If we cut off their supply -"

"Then we cancel their plans," Jaime concluded brightly.

Oscar smiled at her; she was exactly on target, just as they'd hoped. "We'll talk more on the plane," he told her. "We leave in one hour."

* * *

Oscar flew with Steve and Jaime in the small transport plane that took them to the edge of the Brazilian jungle and then in the chopper that would take them directly over their target. Along the way, they studied blueprints of the factory and a map that showed the distance from the terrorists stronghold to the factory and to each of the nearby airports. "All you need to do is cut off their supply line," Oscar explained. "I've got men waiting at each airport – and at the marinas – when they try to get away."

"Gotcha," Jaime told him. "I mean, I can do that with no problem, Boss." Steve placed her parachute pack into her lap – and he thought he saw Jaime flinch, just slightly.

"I'll help you get ready," he told her. "And we'll jump together." Carefully, he strapped the pack to Jaime's shoulders and back and checked every attachment, every strap twice. Jaime was very quiet. "You okay?" he probed. Jaime nodded. "You can still back out, if you need to."

"I can do this," she insisted. "I'm _gonna_ do this!"

"Five minutes," the chopper pilot called back to them.

"I'll be right there with you," Steve reminded her. They'd gone over exactly what the jump entailed – repeatedly – but he could sense Jaime was more nervous than she was letting on. He was prepared to pull the ripcord for her, if need be, but he wondered suddenly if parachuting in wasn't simply asking too much of her. Once more, he repeated the needed steps for a safe jump and landing – and Jaime nodded that she understood. Her face had gone alarmingly white, but her jaw was set in that determined fashion that Steve knew so well.

"Three minutes," the pilot called.

Steve led Jaime to the hatch. "We open in it two more minutes," he reminded her (again). "Do you have any questions?" Jaime shook her head. She was beginning to tremble, whether with excitement or with fear was impossible to tell.

"I can do this," she repeated.

"I know you can," Steve affirmed. When the time came to open the hatch – and they were directly over the drop zone, Steve took her hand and jumped – pulling her with him before Jaime had a chance to grow any more frightened.

Her eyes grew wide as she realized she was now in midair but at exactly the right time, she managed to pull her cord and begin the slow, soft descent into the jungle clearing (a few miles from the factory). Steve delayed pulling his own cord for a few more seconds so that he'd hit the ground first, enabling him to ease Jaime's way back onto terra firma.

"I did it!" Jaime crowed triumphantly when she stumbled into Steve's waiting arms. "I really did it!"

Steve hugged her then helped her take off and stash her gear (as well as stashing his own). "Okay, Partner," he told her, "let's get to work."

* * * * *


	23. Chapter 23

Chapter Twenty-Three

Jaime had never set foot in the jungle before and she'd never realized some of what she might encounter. Terrorists with guns, she was prepared for, but not for what greeted her when she and Steve stepped deeper into the dense foliage. "Snakes!" she squealed. Steve knew they'd been a phobia since her childhood; obviously amnesia hadn't erased the fear.

"They're not poisonous," Steve told her. "And look on the bright side. If they slither over your feet, you won't even feel 'em."

Jaime shot him an uneasy smile and they continued on their way, bending the foliage when they could and cutting it when it became too dense. When they were a bionic-stone's-throw from the factory, they stopped to regroup and go over their plan.

"We don't know how many guards are inside," Steve reminded her, "or if the terrorists themselves might be here...so we have to go in commando-style. We'll cut the power and then take them out one at a time when they come looking for the source of their problem."

"Which is us," Jaime added.

"Right. Just remember that we can't outrun a bullet, so we have to get them by surprise, before they have a chance to fire their weapons. There are alcoves we can duck into and grab them as they come past. Just don't step out into the room itself once everything starts happening – or you'll be right in the line of fire."

"I _know_ that," Jaime told him. "And I'd very much prefer no new holes in my body, so I'll be careful." She looked over at Steve, directly into his eyes. "And you be careful, too," she insisted.

"You're good to go?" Steve asked. Now that they were on the ground, the color had returned to Jaime's face and she was no longer trembling. The jump may have scared her, but she seemed eager to get going now.

"Let's do this," she answered.

* * *

They stopped again just outside the fence, at the point that Intelligence believed there would least likely be a guard and paused behind the last of the foliage. "We jump together," Steve rehashed. "It's electrified, so make sure you don't hit it on the way over."

"I _know_ that."

"Then we hit the ground running, top speed, split up and head straight for both doors of the control room. If we time it right, we'll get there at the same time." He looked at Jaime with serious eyes. "If something happens and I don't make it in there, I want you to run. Don't try and take this all on by yourself."

"Steve -"

"Promise me."

"You're wasting time," Jaime pointed out sensibly. "Let's go."

* * *

Back at the chopper sub-station, Oscar found he couldn't sit still. Had he made the right decision, allowing Jaime to return to the job? She'd only been on one previous assignment...and it had nearly ended in disaster. It hadn't been her fault, of course; she'd done everything exactly the way she was supposed to. She'd infiltrated Joseph Wrona's compound (along with Steve), under the guise of a tennis pro there to play in the tournament Wrona was hosting. Her real goal had been to re-acquire the U.S. Mint's stolen plates that were stashed in his safe. At the worst possible moment, her bionics had malfunctioned and she'd set off the alarm. The one stroke of luck was that the alarm created enough of a diversion that Steve (who had just been exposed and captured) was able to get away and find her. Together, they'd jumped out a second story window and dodged a flurry of bullets as they made their way to safety. They'd been lucky to escape with their lives.

Jaime remembered none of this, of course...but what if something went wrong again? Would Jaime have another attack that rendered her unconscious...at exactly the wrong time? Had Oscar just handed both of his top agents a death sentence?

* * *

Steve and Jaime hit the ground running on the other side of the fence and with one last look, separated and headed in their planned directions. Jaime kept the blueprints firmly in mind, moving easily down the hallways and passages she'd (up until then) only seen on paper. Sure enough, there was a guard at her assigned control room door. Jaime came at him bionically fast from a side passage and swung her left arm into the back of his head. (She chose her left so as not to hurt him too badly; her speed alone was enough to knock him out.) Wisely, she took an extra moment to crumple his weapon into a metallic pretzel, then secured him to an air vent with his own handcuffs. She heard a loud THUD from the other side of the building – most likely just outside the other control room door – and smiled to herself. Steve had made it, too.

The door was locked, but that presented no problem. The knob turned easily in her hand with what seemed like just the slightest bit of force. Closing the door behind herself, she went straight for the main power panel...and waited. Steve was not there. She listened carefully, focusing all of her attention toward the door he'd be coming through; other than the thud heard earlier, it was ominously silent.

_Where was Steve?_

Precious minutes went by, and the door didn't open. Something had gone wrong! Yes, Steve had told her to evacuate – to run – if this happened, but she had very carefully _not_ promised him that. She certainly wasn't about to leave him behind! One more of the longest minutes of Jaime's life went by...and she realized she was all alone.

_Alright,_ she told herself, _Steve's not coming. Something happened. Time for Plan B. So...what in the __**hell**__ is Plan B?_ Jaime ducked behind a row of computers for temporary cover in case anyone came in. _I can do this – but what, exactly, am I gonna do?_

She thought about cutting the power, but when the squadron (or more) of guards came running she would no longer have Steve to back her up. No, finding him had to be her first priority. If they could, they'd finish what they'd started but if not, they would leave _together!_

Her mind made up, Jaime hit the opposite door with a flying kick – taking out the guard who'd been standing there as the door splintered in every direction. She tried to picture the blueprints in her mind again. This hadn't been 'her' side of the building but she was able to remember that one hallway (straight ahead) led to a large warehouse. The hallway to the right was for a group of offices and the one to the left led to an outside door. After securing the guard to what remained of the door, Jaime took a right.

There appeared to be no security in this section...and everything was deathly quiet. Some of the doors were open and Jaime made a fast but thorough foray through each small room – with no results. She listened carefully at each closed door and her ear picked up nothing, not even the sound of a telephone dial tone. The offices looked to be deserted.

Jaime ran back in the direction she'd come. There (thankfully) was no blood trail, no sign of where they might have taken Steve – if, indeed, he'd been taken. Thinking well on her feet, she deduced that the warehouse was too dangerous for now; she'd be too exposed as she moved between the crates and machinery. Instead, she ran at top speed toward the outside door.

She had just reached it when the lights went out.

* * * * * 


	24. Chapter 24

Twenty-Four

It was pitch-black. There were no windows, not even in the outside door; Jaime was temporarily blinded. _Where was Steve?_ Her first thought was to run from the building – to get to where she could at least see who or what was coming at her – but instinct told her to stop and take a quick moment to think.

They must be trying to flush her out, Jaime realized. Very likely, there were guards on the other side of the door, just waiting for her to make her way into the daylight. If Steve had cut the lights, he'd have called to her...or something. _C'mon, Partner,_ she pleaded silently. _Let me know where you are. Make __**some**__ kind of sound; you know I'll hear you._

There was nothing. _Alright_ Jaime told herself, _I know the layout. I can do this!_ The offices were empty, she couldn't go outside and the warehouse was just too dangerous (too many obstacles) in the dark. Confused and a little disoriented in the blackness, she forced herself to stay still until she'd formulated an actual plan. She could go back to the control room and restore the power...but were they waiting for her there? Even if they weren't, she'd risk exposing herself whereas the darkness, however difficult it made things, also gave her a sense of cover.

Then...she heard it. "Where's your partner?" a voice demanded.

"I don't know what you're talking about." _Steve!_ "I came here alone," he insisted. "You got me; it's over."

"So you can time-travel, then – and be in two places at once?" the voice said mockingly. _Thwack!_ Jaime heard the sound and winced, knowing Steve had likely been hit. Was he hurt? How badly? She kept listening, trying to hone in on the direction of the voices.

"Someone took out our other guard – and our door! Now where is he? And what was the plan? You ARE going to tell us!" _Thwack...__**THUD**_

"I have nothing to say," Steve told him quietly.

_They were in the warehouse,_ Jaime realized, _somewhere near the far wall._ She would have to play dodge-the-obstacles (and very quietly) in the dark. It didn't sound like Steve was fighting back. Had he been disabled in some way, or was he simply waiting for the right opportunity? Or...Jaime shuddered...was he stalling (and taking a beating) to allow her time to get away?

She moved swiftly but silently back toward the 'T' in the hallway that would then lead her toward the warehouse door...but she stopped. What if it was a set-up? There could be guards on either side of the door – or both sides – and she wouldn't be able to see them. _Do I have a Plan C?_ she wondered. She pictured the blueprints again. There _was_ another door into the warehouse, from the outside – and very near to where she was guessing they had Steve. From the Intelligence report, it _was_ a guarded door – but at least that guard she'd be able to see!

Jaime headed back to the outside door, turned the knob quietly, then gave the door a good, hard swing in case trouble waited for her on the other side. No one was there. Relieved, she began to make her way around the side of the building, listening carefully as she took each step. Before she turned the corner that would bring her around the back, she dug a handful of rocks from the dirt – and pitched one in the direction of the door and its guard.

Knowing that would grab his attention, she leaned around the corner just enough to throw another one, landing it on the other side of the building. She followed that rock with another one, a little further out in the same direction.

It worked. Jaime heard the guard's footsteps heading _away_ from her to investigate. Still, she had only seconds and so flew around the corner and with one good kick, the normally outward-opening door flew inward.

Powerful arms grabbed her immediately – and pulled her outside. It was Steve. "What -?" she began to say.

"Talk later; run now," he insisted, already moving and taking Jaime with him. Together, they leaped over the fence as gunfire sounded from inside and around the corner of the building. Within seconds, they'd reached the cover of the foliage – and kept on going. The main gate had opened and multiple weapons were still headed in their direction. When they reached their stashed gear, Steve grabbed the datacom then took Jaime's hand again and continued to run.

They crashed through the foliage, their steps beating a path in the leaves and stalks that showed their would-assailants exactly which way they had gone. The foliage grew denser, and as they began to cut their way through, zigging and zagging, the gunfire gradually faded away. Steve led Jaime further into the jungle until there were no more bullets flying and then – finally – turned to her and spoke. His face was bruised and bleeding, but he eyed her as though she was the one who'd been injured.

"Sweetheart, what the hell were you doing back there?" he asked.

"Getting you out," Jaime told him with a shrug.

"You were supposed to run...remember?"

"I never actually _promised_ that..."

Steve shook his head. "You could've been _killed!_"

"Yeah, well you were pretty much halfway there," Jaime noted, looking him up and down. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine. And although you shouldn't have done it...thank you. Now let's get ourselves rescued, shall we?" He hit the datacom's 'talk' button. "Oscar, we need pick-up right now!" he announced, quietly but with urgency. Jaime poked him; he shook his head and held up a finger for her to wait. She poked him again. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow.

"Before you ask for pick-up, shouldn't we figure out where the pick-up zone IS?" she suggested. "Or at least find a clearing where the chopper can set down?"

"Not necessarily," he told her. He turned his attention back to the datacom, where Oscar was requesting their location. "I don't know where we are, exactly, so you'll have to use the locator." (Every datacom was equipped with one, in case of emergencies. This definitely qualified.) "We can't hit the clearing," he told their boss, "so the pilot's gonna have to hover and drop the ladder."

"Hang on, Pal," Oscar said via the device. "The cavalry's coming."

Steve put the datacom back into his pocket and wrapped a protective arm around Jaime. "Can you climb a rope ladder?" he asked her.

"Never tried, but it's certainly better than getting shot," she answered.

When the chopped found them, Steve sent Jaime up the ladder first. Oscar was waiting for them (of course) and told them that the mission was not the disaster they had feared – the terrorists had fled when they realized the plant was under 'attack'. They had been apprehended at the airport and the seaport, with the stolen weapons recovered. "And the factory's crew is being rounded up as we speak," Oscar concluded.

"You can debrief us later," Steve said, leaning back against the wall of the chopper. "First I need a shower...and maybe a drink."

* * *

While they waited at the chopper substation for the transport plane to pick them up, Steve was able to shower and Jaime sank wearily into a chair to relax. (She hadn't been bloodied as he had, and preferred to just take the time to _breathe_.) Steve emerged from the shower room toweling off his wet hair and accepted a drink from Oscar before sitting down in a chair next to Jaime's.

Jaime looked over at her 'Partner' and started to flash a weary-but-relieved smile. She took one look at him and her eyes rolled back into her head as she slumped from the chair to the floor, unconscious.

* * * * *


	25. Chapter 25

Twenty-Five

"It _is_ me," Steve concluded miserably. He sat with Oscar in his room at Rudy's complex, waiting (once again) for word on Jaime's condition.

"I don't think so," Oscar countered.

"How can you say that?" Steve argued. "She took one look at me – and she hit the floor."

"Maybe. But how many times did she look at you on the flight down, or during the mission or even on the rescue chopper?"

"That's...true," Steve allowed. "Still, what other explanation is there? Practically every time Jaime has collapsed, I've been the one with her – and when I wasn't, they were talking _about me_!"

"Let's see what the doctors have to say," Oscar suggested.

And so they waited, boss with agent and friend with friend...for a _very_ long time...

* * *

"We still don't have an answer for you," Rudy admitted, very early the next morning. He and Michael had been running tests and treating Jaime throughout the night – and they were no closer to the source of her problem.

"Not what I was needing to hear right now, Doc," Steve said. "But we have to be realistic; if I stay away from Jaime, the attacks will stop. It's that simple, right?"

"Even if you _are_ the trigger," Rudy explained, "and I'm not certain that you are, not having you here could be even _more_ harmful to Jaime."

"Not following that logic," Steve told him. (Oscar seemed equally confused.)

"What you've been talking with her about may help alleviate the problem. And if you weren't here, Jaime's imagination would probably be trying to fill in the gaps on its own...with what could be disastrous results. So let's talk this through again and see what we can come up with." Rudy looked at Oscar and then back at Steve. "Jaime showed no signs of pain or illness before she actually collapsed this time?"

"She was fine," Steve affirmed. "In fact, she was better than fine; she handled herself like a seasoned agent on that assignment. No way she could have done that well if she was in pain."

"Alright. And on the chopper afterward? Because I'm thinking fatigue and the build-up of adrenaline may have played a role..."

"I can tell you that she was fine then, too," Oscar put in. "In fact, I asked her how she was feeling – if she'd been hurt or if she was in any pain. She was exhausted, yes, but she was jubilant when she found out how well things had turned out – and she most definitely was not ill."

"Okay," Rudy pondered, "that gets us a little closer. So this all came on suddenly, at the substation, correct?" Oscar and Steve nodded. "What happened right before she collapsed?"

"I sat down next to her," Steve told him.

"And right before that?"

Steve frowned. "I got a drink from Oscar...once I got out of the shower."

The lightbulb flashed on in Rudy's mind so suddenly that it was impossible to miss. "Steve!" he said urgently, "Did you wash your hair?"

"Well, yeah...there was a little blood in it, and -"

"_That's it!_" the doctor proclaimed, leaping to his feet.

Oscar and Steve eyed him like he might have been working a little too long without any sleep. "You're saying the trigger is...shampoo?" Steve asked.

"Of course not!" Rudy was almost dancing as the realization blazed through him. "We showed Jaime a photo of Jim and Helen's old ranch – the one where Jaime lived after her parents died – and it happened to have been taken on a rainy day." Still, Oscar and Steve stared at him. (Didn't they _get_ it?) "She was able to tell Michael that she'd had a dream before waking up and having an attack...and she'd dreamed of running in the rain!"

"Water?" Oscar theorized.

"No," Rudy said patiently. "Don't you see? Steve...with wet hair...Jaime running in the rain..."

Finally, Steve understood. "She's remembering..._the night she died_."

Rudy nodded. "Exactly. That _has_ to be it! But not remembering it; more like flashing on it as her mind tries to prevent her from remembering. It's simply too painful a physical memory and too frightening – so while her conscious mind is striving to see it, her subconscious is shutting her down. Protecting her, so to speak."

All three men nodded; suddenly, it all made sense.

* * *

"I _told_ you I'm not seeing a _shrink!_" Jaime insisted the next afternoon, after she'd been given a day and a half to rest.

"This isn't a shrink – I mean a psychiatrist," Michael told her gently. "Connie Warrant is a _psychologist_ who specializes in hypnotherapy, and -"

"Same difference! She wants to poke around in my brain! Well, forget it!" Jaime crossed her arms and her jaw jutted out and set that way, daring Michael to try and change her mind.

Instead, Rudy stepped in. "Honey, I'm sorry but this is not optional this time. We believe we know what's been causing your pain -"

"Great! What is it?" Jaime asked, still defiant.

"Right now, it's buried in your subconscious," Rudy hedged, "and it appears that trying to bring it forward by simply reminding you – or even telling you flat out – will induce another attack. And since every attack is a little worse than the last one..."

"The hypnotherapist could hopefully bring it out – where we can deal with it – with a lot less danger to you," Michael concluded. "Of course, Rudy and I will both be here to monitor you the entire time." He smiled gently at her. "Like Rudy said, this is not optional anymore. Your health and your safety are at risk, and this is how we need to treat it."

Jaime sighed. "Fine. Bring on the damn shrink." While her voice sounded angry and defiant, her eyes gave away the truth of how very frightened she was.

* * *

"So you think she'll resist the hypnosis?" Connie Warrant queried Jaime's doctors.

"She hasn't been through our resistance training yet," Oscar interjected.

"But she's very scared of this process," Michael told her.

"And very stubborn," Steve added. (Her strong will had been one of the reasons he'd fallen in love with her.)

"Then I would suggest sodium pentothal to smooth the way – and also calm her nerves," Connie told them. "However, once I have her fully under, you'll want to remove the drip. Provided the memory doesn't prove too physically or psychologically dangerous, we'll want Jaime to be able to retain it when she wakes up, so we can begin to deal with it."

Steve had an idea – and a question. "If you can bring this memory out with hypnosis, what about the rest of the memories she's lost? Can you restore all of them the same way?"

"Unfortunately, no," Connie explained. "This memory was not truly lost. It's been hidden deep in Jaime's mind since her reawakening, causing her debilitating pain while her conscious and subconscious minds are at war, pushing the memory back and forth. It _is_ possible, though, that releasing this memory may allow some of her lost memories to return more freely...but since we are dealing with brain damage caused by oxygen deprivation...it may not."

Steve thought about this for a moment. "The most important thing right now is to make sure she's safe – and free from that pain."

Rudy nodded. "You and Oscar can wait here; we'll come and let you know as soon as it's over."

* * *

"Alright, Jaime," Connie Warrant began, "I'm going to take you back in time now...and I want you to remember that anything you might see, you are only viewing, only observing. None of it is happening to you now, none of the pain, none of the fear – you are only an observer. Do you understand?"

"Yes..." Jaime murmured, completely under. Her body was relaxed, her eyes closed. Rudy removed the pentothal drip and left her solely under the therapist's influence.

"We're going back in time now...back to when you were lying in this very bed, hovering between this world and the next one, with your body in a coma. Go back there with me now...picture it and observe it..."

"Yes..." Jaime whispered.

"Good. Now I want to take you a little further back in time. Remember that you are only observing; none of this is happening to you now. Just observing. It is very dark outside...and it's raining. You are running in that rain...but you are running blind..."

Jaime began to thrash restlessly in the bed. "You are only observing," Connie reminded her again, "none of this can hurt – or even affect – you now."

Jaime's struggle grew more violent and her doctors moved quickly to each side of her bed, raising the guard rails and watching her closely. Her soft moans suddenly turned into a piercing, terror-filled scream:

_**NO**__!_

* * * * *


	26. Chapter 26

Twenty-Six

Slowly, with painstaking caution, the therapist began to lead Jaime through every detail of the night her subconscious wanted her to forget. Several times, Rudy and Michael wanted to demand that the session be terminated, but gradually Jaime's thrashing and struggling eased and she laid quietly in the bed with her eyes closed, walking through what had very nearly been the last night of her life.

"So much _pain_..." Jaime whispered.

"Are you in pain now?" Connie asked quietly.

"No...just...observing."

"Very good. Now, when that awful pain hit you, what happened next?"

"I ran...I ran away..." Jaime answered.

"What were you trying to escape – to run away _from_?" Connie probed, very gently.

"From the pain! Except...I couldn't. I couldn't get away from it!"

"Where did you go?"

"I...I don't know...I just ran. I couldn't even see! And then..." Jaime paused, shuddering at the memory.

"What happened next?" Connie continued.

"I – I heard someone calling me..."

"Who was it?" Jaime didn't answer, so Connie kept probing. "Listen to the voice again now; who was calling you?"

"It was...Steve. He sounded so worried."

"Did you answer him?"

"No...I just kept running..."

"Were you running from Steve?"

"Yes...no...I...don't know," Jaime admitted. Her eyes were still closed, but they were moving rapidly behind her eyelids, experiencing every vivid detail. "I wanted help – I wanted _his_ help...but I was trying to get away from him, too. I – I don't know why."

"You were terribly confused and frightened, weren't you?" Connie empathized.

"Y-yes...and it hurt...it hurt so much!"

"What happened next?"

"I tried to answer him – I did! - but I couldn't. Then I found..." Jaime began to thrash again, just slightly, as the memory grew even more disturbing. "I found a phone booth. I could call him, and then he'd hear me...and he'd find me! But...he didn't answer. Nobody did. I...I kept hitting the buttons, but nobody answered." Connie kept silent, hoping the memory would keep coming on its own.

It did. "I couldn't get the door open," Jaime continued in a soft, trembling voice. "I couldn't get out! I pushed on it and hit it. I kicked it...and I heard glass breaking...I think..."

Connie looked to Rudy, who nodded. "That's right," she confirmed.

Jaime went on, the floodgates fully open now. "I fell out...and I saw Steve. He was...he was all wet and he reached out and caught me, just when I fell. The pain...I couldn't see anymore! Then I was in the hospital and they were putting me on a table..." Jaime paused, not quite understanding what she was seeing. "I – I'm on the table...but I'm not."

"Where are you, Jaime?" the therapist asked. "What are you seeing now?"

"I can see myself...on the table. It – it's an operating room. Steve and Oscar are there too. I feel so far away. And it doesn't hurt anymore!" Tears began flowing silently down her face as she continued to speak in an awestruck near-whisper. "I can't hear them, but everybody's so upset! Why? I – I'm not...the pain isn't there anymore! Then Rudy and the others, they stepped away...and Steve was at the table. He kissed me...and he was crying. And then..."

Everyone in the room leaned forward, holding their collective breath as Jaime called forth the rest of the story. "I couldn't hear Steve...but he was so sad! Then I heard...I heard...my mother's voice!"

"What was she saying?"

"She said, _come on, Baby...it's time to come home._ And I wasn't scared; I really wasn't! I could see her and Daddy, and their arms were wide open. I didn't walk toward them or anything, but all of a sudden, I was just there...and they were holding me. Oh, it felt so good! I was safe, and so happy! My parents!" Jaime frowned, her eyes still closed. "And then..."

"What happened next?" Connie prompted.

"Then I felt something – stronger than bionics even, because I couldn't fight it - and it...it was pulling me away. NO! I'm so happy here! Please...I...I don't wanna go!" Once more, she was thrashing wildly in the bed, her tears flowing freely.

"Where did you go, Jaime? What happened to you next?"

"I was...oh, God...I was back on that table, in that body – and my parents were gone! They were holding me...loving me...and then they were just...gone! Why? They said it was time to go home with them!" Jaime's voice faded into broken sobs. Clearly, the memory had ended. The trigger had been exposed.

Instead of bringing her directly out of hypnosis (since the memory had been so traumatic and Jaime was clearly exhausted), Connie sent her into a deep, restful sleep, telling her that when she awakened, she would retain the memory of what had happened – but that it would no longer have the power to cause her any (physical) pain. Once they'd ensured that their patient was resting safely and comfortably, the two doctors and the therapist left to give the details to Oscar and Steve.

They didn't have to go far. Instead of waiting in the lab as instructed, the two men sat tensely just outside of Jaime's room. After a quick but thorough summary – things had gone even better than expected and Jaime appeared to be fine (for now) – Steve headed into her room to wait by her bedside. He wanted to be there when she woke up, to comfort her as he sensed she was going to need it.

* * *

"Is it over?" Jaime asked as she opened her eyes to find Steve leaning over her, trying his best to smile. He nodded and Jaime paused...just for a moment. "Why don't I remember..." then she flinched visibly as what had been only one of a lifetime's worth of hidden memories crashed into her conscious mind harder than a runaway freight engine. She had known for more than a month that she had been dead on the operating table – that Michael had brought her back – but it had only been lip service with no real connection to her emotions...until now.

Steve held her hand as it all flooded back to her. "I was really..._dead_," she realized aloud. Steve waited to brush away her tears – but they didn't come.

Quickly, Rudy stepped up to the bed. "How do you feel, Honey? Are you having any pain?"

Jaime had to take a few seconds to assess herself – the regained memory was such a stunning one – and then she shook her head. "I'm okay...I think." She looked up at Steve then back at her doctors, unsure how to react – or how they might be _expecting_ her to react. "I can't believe...that I can remember something like that! Most people can't..." she thought about what she'd been about to say. "Then again, most people who die aren't laying in a bed seven months later, talking about it."

"That's right," Michael affirmed. It still pained him to see Jaime holding Steve's hand instead of his own, but he maintained his professional distance.

"Did I really see my parents?" Jaime asked. "It felt so _real!_"

"Even science and medicine can't answer that, Honey," Rudy told her. "But I believe that – for you – it was indeed very real. You saw what you saw."

Jaime clasped Steve's hand a little bit tighter. "I saw you standing by the table, after I...died," she told him. He had looked so bereft, so utterly crushed, that remembering it now (and seeing it in her mind's eye) broke Jaime's heart. She wondered just what it was that she didn't know about this man who had been so kind to her – and had kissed her so tenderly after she'd 'gone' – but she fully intended to find out.

* * * * *


	27. Chapter 27

Twenty-Seven

Oscar knew that Jaime had now made a giant leap closer to the time when she'd be looking to return to a 'normal life'. He'd originally hoped that her engagement announcement had only made the local paper – and that he could somehow manipulate the date to make it appear she and Steve had become engaged _before_ her skydiving accident. Very few people had actually seen her after the accident, when she'd been learning to use her bionics and when she and Steve had truly rediscovered their love. Perhaps (he'd hoped) he could make it appear that her accident had occurred later than it had – that she had suffered an accident and her body had not been immediately found.

The casket had been closed, after all – so it could have worked. There was only one problem. Jaime and Steve had both been minor celebrities: she for her amazing run to the top on the tennis circuit, and Steve as one of the only men in the world to have walked on the moon. Their engagement announcement had been too widely published; he could not manipulate the date.

How many people actually knew when her accident had occurred? Oscar wasn't certain. Jaime's obituary had merely said that she'd perished as a result of complications resulting from a skydiving accident; no further details had been given. That left Oscar with at least a little bit of wiggle room, in terms of the facts. He would _make it work_...as soon as he figured out how.

* * *

"I need to ask you something," Jaime said, lowering herself into the grass beside the river.

"Anything you need," Steve told her. For him, the lying had ended. Yes, he would proceed with caution (exactly as he'd promised Rudy) and he knew he might have to steer around the more complicated issues for just a little while longer – but he'd made up his mind. He would not directly lie to Jaime – for whatever reason – ever again.

"Just how close _were_ we?" Jaime questioned.

"You mean in high school?"

"I mean in _life_," Jaime stated. "You kissed me in that operating room and...there were tears in your eyes." Instinctively, she knew this meant they'd been more than high school sweethearts.

Thankfully, Steve didn't have to figure out how much of the truth to lay on her all at once. Jaime had more to ask. "Just exactly when did we meet?"

Steve smiled. "I was in third grade and you'd just started kindergarten."

"Really? So we've known each other -"

"Practically forever," he confirmed.

"We grew up together?"

"Yep." He weighed his words carefully, since she hadn't specifically asked this, but decided it was alright to share it. "After we met and started hanging out together, our mothers became best friends."

Jaime digested this tidbit slowly...then smiled. "That is so cool. But...why didn't you tell me before now?"

"You're calling the shots here, Sweetheart. You ask, I answer. But before you met with Connie, we didn't know what was causing your pain – and none of us wanted to hurt you, or to make things worse."

Jaime nodded. "There's so much I wish I could remember," she mused. _Most of it about you,_ she added silently. "Do you think that if I worked with Connie some more, I could get back _everything_ that's missing?"

She looked so peaceful that Steve hated the feeling that he was about to stick a giant pin in the balloon. "The memory she was able to bring back was one you hadn't really lost," he said carefully. "It was too painful – too scary – to face right away, so your mind tucked it back into a dark corner. But memories that are truly gone – that aren't even in your subconscious anymore – well...hypnosis can't help with that."

"Oh..."

"I'm sorry," Steve concluded. "I know that's not what you wanted to hear." _Not what I'd wanted to hear, either, when she told me,_ he reflected. "Tell me how I can help you."

Jaime shifted her body to face him. "You _are_ helping...more than you know. Just by being here, and being so patient." She knew he was still holding back so much – and she could see in his eyes how deeply that pained him. She wished it could all just surface, that she could have _**all**_ of her past (and _their_ past) back at once...but she sensed that neither she nor Steve was truly ready for that.

* * *

One detail – and one day – at a time, Steve began to fill in the blanks for Jaime. The doctors still worried about a potential collapse; could there have been more than one cause, more than one trigger? Steve was treading very lightly but it was impossible to know if each new and sparingly doled out fact would be the one to send Jaime back into the depths of pain...or worse. They watched her as closely as her growing sense of freedom would allow. Yes, she was still a patient, but she no longer resembled a newborn colt learning to walk on shaky legs or a toddler to whom the whole world was still fresh and new. _This_ Jaime was a strong and intelligent young woman, determined to recover what had been unjustly taken away from her. Her progress and the sheer force of her will amazed them all.

* * *

"Okay," Jaime began on the next day's walk with Steve, "why _did_ you kiss me like that, when you thought I was dead?"

He'd hoped she'd left that topic for the time being...but there it was. "Well, we've been a part of each other's lives for so long. I just couldn't imagine my world without you in it," he answered simply.

Jaime stopped in her tracks to look directly into his eyes. "After high school, after college and after NASA and the tennis circuit...then what?" she probed.

"We both had our respective accidents and became miracles of science," he said lightly. Jaime scowled at him. "I'm sorry; I'm not sure what you're asking me," Steve told her.

"Did we only see each other again _after_ my accident?" she clarified. "Because I'm not exactly an obvious choice for Oscar and Rudy to have worked their magic on. Someone greased the wheel; someone convinced them to make me bionic. Was it you?"

"Yes," he admitted. "It was."

"Okay. And...why?"

"You were – and still are – intelligent, athletic and one of the bravest people I know. You may not have been an obvious choice for them, but you _were_ a perfect choice, once that choice was put in front of them."

"Steve!" There was more. She just _knew_ it!

"Alright," he said softly. He led Jaime to a patch of soft grass and they both sat down. "What, exactly, do you want me to tell you?"

"I want you to tell me about _**us**_ – after the tennis circuit and before my accident! What made you ask Oscar to save my life?"

Steve reached out and tenderly touched her face. "I was in love with you," he finally admitted.

"We were...together?"

Steve looked deep into the hazel eyes that he'd known for so long. "Yes," he told her. "We'd found each other again...and we were in love."

Jaime could sense that it was true; she could read it in Steve's eyes and in his every action when he was with her. To her dismay, she was unable to _feel_ it...no matter how desperately she wanted to.

* * * * *


	28. Chapter 28

Twenty-Eight

Steve knew he wouldn't be able to stay at Rudy's complex forever as a non-patient. Rudy didn't mind; Steve was 'the best possible therapy for Jaime right now', as the doctor put it...but every once in awhile the world still needed saving from itself. Inevitably, albeit reluctantly, Oscar had to call him back to work.

"I know it's a bad time, Pal," he said apologetically, "but this is a short one. You'll be back in 48 hours. And it's -"

"Urgent," Steve finished for him. (It was _always_ urgent; that was the entire point of the job.) "I just...well, I hate to leave her right now."

"She'll have Rudy to look after her," Oscar pointed out, "and Michael."

_That's what I'm afraid of,_ Steve grumbled to himself.

* * *

"I wish you didn't have to go," Jaime said when Steve found her to tell her the news.

"Nature of the beast," Steve replied. Softly, his hand caressed her cheek and Jaime tilted her head toward the touch as his fingers traced the line of her jaw.

"I'll miss you..."

"It's only for a couple of days."

Jaime nodded sadly. Steve longed to wrap her in his arms and say a proper goodbye – along with a kiss – but he didn't dare. The last thing he wanted to do was pressure her or scare her away. But Jaime's eyes took possession of his and refused to let go. "Stay safe..." she whispered, lightly kissing his fingertips as they left her face.

The lump in Steve's throat kept him from saying anything more. With one last look and a smile, he was gone.

Jaime soon found herself at loose ends. She'd been spending so much of her time with Steve, talking, working out and just being together that now she didn't know quite what to do with herself. Restless and bored, she wandered outside toward the edge of the complex and sat down beneath a shade tree, around the corner of the building from the parking lot.

The nurses were just changing shifts, giggling and gossiping as they stepped out into the sunshine after a long day of work. With nothing better to do, Jaime began idly eavesdropping. The first pair who headed for their cars were chirpily debated whether or not Doctor Marchetti _ever_ stopped working. "I don't think I've ever seen him coming or going – Doctor Wells, either," someone was saying.

"I think they live here," her friend joked. "Do they even have cars – or homes?" A car radio began blaring bubblegum rock as the two drove out of the lot.

The next few to exit were talking about which shoes were most comfortable for ten-hour days...and how rotten the powdered eggs tasted first thing in the morning. (Jaime had to agree with that!) Then one conversation – one name – made her sit up and listen more actively.

"Colonel Austin left today," someone was saying.

"He'll be back," a second voice insisted knowledgeably.

"I hope so; he is one gorgeous hunk of -"

"He's also very taken," her friend interrupted.

"Says who?" the other nurse giggled.

"They're together all the time..."

"Yeah, well there's no ring on her finger – not anymore..."

Jaime sat bolt upright, boredom suddenly the furthest thing from her mind. _There's no ring on her finger...not anymore._ Just what in that _**hell**_ did _that_ mean?

* * *

At first, Rudy and Michael thought the lab was under some kind of attack – and to a certain extent, it was. The reinforced security door flew open with all the force of a bomb or a battering ram...or a pair of bionic legs. Jaime stood glaring at them from the now-open doorway; if she could, she'd have been breathing fire.

"Jaime...?" Michael began. Was this some sort of new attack? Was she suffering another actual hemorrhage? He reached out to try and help her into a chair but she jerked away, not allowing him to touch her.

"What kind of crappy psychological experiment are you running here..._doctors?_" she demanded.

"Jaime, what are you talking about?" Michael said softly, moving in one direction in hopes of distracting her while Rudy quickly grabbed a needle filled with strong sedation.

"Do. Not. Touch. Me!" Jaime growled at Michael. She whirled around to stop Rudy in his tracks. "And don't even think about it! I'm not feeble, I'm _not_ crazy – and I don't need a sedative!" She turned wildly, glaring at one, then the other. "Give me one good reason why I should trust either one of you, ever again! What else have you lied to me about? _**Why**_?"

Security, having been alerted by the alarm when the door was destroyed (and by the shouting) began flooding the hallway leading to the lab. Rudy signaled them to stay back with a subtle shake of his head, then took a step toward his patient. "Honey," he suggested gently, "why don't you sit down and tell us what's going on?"

"Don't patronize me!" Jaime insisted. "And don't come near me! I don't trust you...I _can't_ trust you!"

"Of course you can trust us," Rudy continued softly. "I can see that you're upset...please let us help you..." He set the syringe down on a counter with an obvious motion so Jaime could see he was now empty-handed, then – going on the faith that she didn't have it in her to harm him – he approached his distraught patient.

Jaime's body tensed at his touch, but she allowed Rudy to lead her to a chair, where she eased herself down wearily, her anger suddenly and completely spent, dissipated by her doctor's gentle, caring touch. Rudy waved Security away with a second nod of his head; things were under control now...he hoped.

"Tell us what happened, Honey," Rudy requested in his most soothing voice.

"I...we...Steve and I – we were _married_?" Jaime finally managed to say.

Michael and Rudy exchanged an alarmed glance. "No; you've never been married. Not to Steve or to anyone else," Rudy told her. "Why would you think that?"

Jaime wasn't sure whether to believe him or not. "Apparently, I used to wear a ring – _Steve's ring_ – and I don't anymore. So what was it? And please...no more dancing around the facts. I'm too tired to dance. What _really_ happened between Steve and me – that nobody wants to tell me about?"

The doctors exchanged another look. It was time to tell her...and they both knew it. "Let's get you comfortable back in your room," Rudy suggested. "We'll talk there – and I promise: no more lies."

Michael stayed behind in the lab (to supervise repairs on the door and because he was too emotionally involved in what was about to be discussed) while Rudy helped Jaime back to her room and into her bed. Her eyes were softer now, frightened but very determined as well. Quietly, Rudy closed the door and pulled a chair up to her bed.

"Okay, Honey," he began, "you're right. There _is_ more that we haven't told you. It might be very difficult for you to hear."

"Whatever it is, it's no harder than not knowing," Jaime pointed out.

Rudy nodded. She was right again. "About two years after Steve's accident – and a few months before yours – you ran into each other again in Ojai," he told her. "I think you already know that."

"Steve told me we fell in love...again."

"Yes, you did. You became..." he hesitated, "...very close."

"The ring," Jaime prompted. "If we weren't married, were we -?"

Rudy nodded again, very slowly. "Yes, Honey – you and Steve were engaged."

* * * * * 


	29. Chapter 29

Twenty-Nine

Jaime listened as Rudy gently told her the entire story of her engagement to Steve and the amnesia that had separated them. She took it in silently, without tears, shaking her head sadly when he was finished.

"Poor Steve; I've caused him so much pain..." she said.

"No, Honey," the doctor assured her, "none of this was your fault. Steve would be the first one to tell you that."

"It must be so hard for him to be here – to be with _me_ – when I was treating him like he was a stranger!" Jaime was horrified. "My God, Rudy...I didn't even know who he was! I...I broke his heart."

"Steve's heart _was_ broken," Rudy confirmed, "but not the way that you think. Honey, when you died, he was beside himself with grief. He was inconsolable. But finding out you were alive again, well, that changed everything."

"Until I looked right at him and asked who he was..."

"You had no control over what happened. Steve doesn't blame you – not in any way. You need to believe that."

"I need...some time alone, if that's okay," Jaime requested. At seeing her doctor's worried face, she had to clarify. "I'll be alright. I'm not gonna bust down any more doors or go on a rampage. I just need to think things through for awhile."

Rudy nodded, patting her hand. "You call if you need anything at all," he told her. "I'll check on you in a little while."

"Thank you. And...Rudy?" Jaime called out as he was leaving. "I'm really sorry about the door."

* * *

While Rudy was talking to Jaime, Michael was sitting in the lab with his emotions going in every possible direction. By the time Rudy had returned, he had finally made a decision.

"I'm taking myself off of Jaime's case," he announced to his shocked mentor. "I'll leave for Colorado Springs in the morning and continue my research there."

"I'm not sure I understand," Rudy told him. _If Michael were going to leave,_ Rudy thought, _he would have done so back when I called him out on his relationship with Jaime. So...why now?_

"Jaime might forgive you for not telling her the truth straight out," Michael explained, "and she might even forgive me. Maybe. But I'm having trouble living with myself...after what I've done."

A terrible possibility occurred to Rudy. "You said you didn't...Michael, you didn't _sleep_ with her...did you?"

"Of course not! But I think what I did do was a hundred times worse. Not only did I keep the truth from Jaime about her relationship with Steve – like we'd all agreed – but knowing that she still belonged to someone else, even if she didn't remember it...I let myself fall in love with her. Even worse...I let her develop feelings for me, too."

"You're a human being, Michael," Rudy said quietly. (Yes, what he'd done had been against every bit of medical ethics, but Michael was paying dearly for it, Rudy realized.) "You made a mistake."

"It's more than that," Michael insisted. "I did it knowingly. My job should have been to help Jaime remember what was lost to her – not to encourage her to be with me instead."

"Your job was – and _**is**_ – to provide Jaime with the best medical care possible, to the very best of your knowledge and ability. In spite of what else happened – which you know I didn't approve of – you've done that. You're an excellent physician, Michael, with the exact set of skills that Jaime needs right now...and may need even more in the near future."

"The brain surgery," Michael remembered out loud.

"Yes, the brain surgery. We'll need to make a decision soon on whether we can restore any of her memory by forcible oxygenation of the damaged cells or by revitalization of the adjacent ones. That's not my area of expertise; it's yours. I need you here – and Jaime needs you here."

"I'm not sure she'll feel that way," Michael concluded. "Not anymore."

"Would you rather have a stranger – someone who knows little to nothing about Jaime's case – perform the surgery, if it's needed? Do you think Jaime would prefer that?" Rudy demanded. Michael didn't answer. "Michael, do you feel you can't treat her objectively as her physician anymore?"

"No, but -"

"Then I'm asking you to reconsider...for the sake of _our_ patient. Jaime is a strong-willed, intelligent young woman. If she has any problems with keeping you as one of her doctors, after what we witnessed down here today, do you have any doubt that she'll tell us? In spades?"

Michael had to chuckle. Rudy was probably right about that.

* * *

The next morning, Rudy presented Jaime with the _complete_ scrapbook that detailed her childhood and her past with Steve. She was grateful to have a day and a half to look it over, to absorb the new details and try and put them in order (and maybe, if she was lucky, find the feelings to go with them) before she faced Steve again.

Michael had agreed to stay and to treat Jaime, but he would remain in the background and allow Rudy to provide the majority of the close, personal care their patient would require. Michael felt that Jaime would be more comfortable that way. (Truth be told, he would be, too.) He watched from his office window as she carried the scrapbook out to her favorite spot by the river and sat down to pore through its contents, then Michael turned his attention back to Jaime's latest test results. The possibility of further surgery was still up in the air...and a decision would likely have to be made soon.

Jaime laid the scrapbook on her lap and opened it to the first page. She smiled at the photo of her mother, fully pregnant and ready to deliver at any moment, Jaime's father grinning proudly beside her. There was a photo of Jaime in her crib, clutching a stuffed rabbit that was nearly as big as she was, and another of her as a toddler, wearing a frilly little sundress and matching hat.

Jaime turned the page. She giggled now at the picture Rudy and Michael had shown her – of herself in a sandbox with the pudgy little playmate that she now knew was Steve. Something flitted across her mind, almost to quickly for her to reach out and grab it. Had she _really_ dumped a bucket of sand over his head?

There were so many pictures now...some of them with tiny wisps of what she thought must be memories attached to them. Others – especially those taken much later, when she and Steve had been in love – gave her a warm feeling but absolutely no sense of recall. Then...there it was: the engagement announcement. She and Steve looked happier than in any of the other photos she'd viewed. They were beaming at each other and at the camera, their joy fully evident as they looked forward to a future filled with love and excitement – one that now seemed like it had been cruelly ripped away from them...possibly forever.

* * *

Jaime had been through the entire scrapbook at least a dozen times before she sat waiting with nervous anticipation for Steve to return. He was expected back at any moment now; what would she say to him? How should she act? She had tried desperately hard to let the photos bring back the memories – and more importantly, the feelings – that had been captured on film...and she had failed. How _did_ she feel about Steve? Jaime knew she cared deeply for him; he'd been so kind to her and – yes – so loving. He had to be the most amazing man she'd ever known, willing to sacrifice his own happiness to ensure her health and safety! Still, was it fair to ask him to stick around, to be with her, when she didn't feel the same way that he so obviously still did? She wanted to explore her own feelings and see exactly where they might lead – but would that cause Steve even more heartache? What if she could never give him what she knew he deserved: the warmth of a pair of arms that he could know would love him forever?

What was Jaime going to do? She had no idea...

* * * * *


	30. Chapter 30

Thirty

Steve went directly from the airstrip to Rudy's complex. He didn't even stop to check in with his doctor (or with Oscar) before knocking and poking his head into Jaime's room. Jaime smiled, trying to hide a severe case of the nerves. She thought Steve seemed nervous too – had Rudy warned him, told him what had happened while he was gone?

"You decent?" he queried.

Jaime laughed. "Don't people usually ask that _before_ they stick their heads in the door?" _Besides,_ she thought to herself, _you probably already know what I look like when I'm __**not**__ decent!_

"Yeah, well, late manners are better than no manners, right?"

"Get in here," Jaime told him with a grin. "So...how was it?"

Steve shrugged. "Humanity is safe for at least another night."

"Thank you."

"For what?" he wondered.

Jaime grinned. "I'm part of humanity, ya know."

"Well then...you're welcome."

Jaime had something she needed to know – and this was the perfect opening. "I don't think 'thank you' is enough, in this case," she teased (her heart pounding).

"Oh? Any suggestions?" His heart was pounding, too.

"Come over here," she requested, swinging her legs over the side of the bed to sit up and meet him. He stepped toward her – and Jaime shook her head. "Not close enough, Colonel." Surprising herself almost as much as Steve, she reached up and pulled him down so his face was level with her own...and she kissed him.

Their eyes locked together as what had begun as a tentative kiss grew fuller and more intense. When they finally pulled away, Jaime could barely catch her breath.

Steve winked at her. "Yep; always rocks my world, too," he said. He gave her hand a squeeze and stood back up to his full height. "I guess I'd better check in with the boss before he sends the NSB out looking for me."

"He's here somewhere," Jaime replied.

"Good; that means I can get back here that much quicker."

"I'm counting on it." It felt like butterflies were going crazy in Jaime's stomach as she watched him walk away.

* * *

Steve was surprised to find Rudy waiting along with Oscar in the tiny waiting room. "I take it...I'm not being debriefed right now," he guessed, closing the door and taking a seat at the table.

"You saw Jaime?" Rudy theorized (judging from the smile Steve had quickly hidden when he'd walked in).

"Sorry – but you guys were my second choice," Steve joked. He shrugged. "She's prettier than you are; what can I say?"

"That's fine," Rudy reassured him. "And the two of you talked?"

"Nope. I just waved from the doorway and hurried here to meet you." His two friends looked at each other without laughing...and Steve began to worry. "Is something wrong? Did Jaime have another attack?"

"No, nothing like that, Pal," Oscar told him. "But something did happen while you were away."

"Okay..." Steve tried to keep his voice steady but his imagination was working overtime, conjuring up every awful possibility. "Gonna tell me what it is – or do I have to guess?"

"Steve -" Oscar began. He turned to Rudy.

"Jaime knows," Rudy blurted out.

"Jaime knows _what_?" Steve asked. "The price of tea in China? The likelihood of little green men on Mars? _What happened?_"

"She knows about your engagement, Pal," Oscar finally explained. "About how you were together right up until her amnesia."

"She...does?" Steve was stunned. He'd expected to tell Jaime about that himself – sometime in the future, when the time was right. "You told her?"

"Not exactly," Rudy clarified. "She...found out."

"How?"

"I don't know," the doctor admitted. "But we didn't tell her – and neither did Michael."

"What did she say? How did she take it?" Steve wondered. (And what the hell did that kiss mean?)

"Not well...at first," Rudy answered. "Took out the lab door and brought half the building's Security down there at a dead run, thinking we were under attack."

"Oh, no..."

"But we talked her through it, got her calmed down – and she's okay now...at least as far as we know. We gave her the scrapbook back; _all_ of it this time. She asked a few questions but has mostly been alone, just letting it all sink in."

"And no pain?" Steve asked.

"None," Rudy replied. "And I'm pretty sure now that she'd tell us if there was a problem like that."

"Okay, well, I guess I'd better get back to her then," Steve said slowly. He looked at Oscar. "Unless...you still wanna talk about the mission."

"It can wait. I know everything I need to, for now," Oscar told him. "Go take care of our girl."

"Yeah." All of a sudden, in spite of his over-abundant confidence and sense of bravado...Steve wasn't quite sure how to do that.

* * *

While Steve was in the conference room, Jaime laid back against her pillows and wondered what, exactly, had just possessed her. Indeed (just as Steve had said) the kiss had rocked her from the tips of her hair follicles to the toes on her bionic feet. But...should she have done it? She'd hoped to find out if there was any sort of spark between him – and there most definitely _was_ - but was she merely leading him on? Had she just offered something she still wasn't sure she could truly deliver? Feeling schoolgirl-giddy after a well-placed kiss was far from knowing you wanted to spend the rest of your life with someone...or even if you really did love them.

Jaime closed her eyes and cringed at her next thought: _What if I just managed to make everything worse...?_

* * *

Steve made his way slowly back down the hall and into the elevator (surprising himself with the fact that he was not running to Jaime's side). _**What**__ is wrong with me?_ he wondered. _Isn't this what I wanted – for Jaime to __**know**__?_ Still when it came right down to it, Steve realized that this was now IT. For good or for bad...Jaime knew – and the ball was in her court. He knew her well enough to guess that the kiss had been some kind of test – but of her own feelings...or his? He wasn't sure. (Had he passed?)

Jaime's door was still open, just as he'd left it, and Steve hesitated briefly before rounding the last corner. He was over-dramatizing (just a little) but couldn't help feeling that the rest of his life's happiness depended on what happened the next time he walked through that door...

Jaime could hear him coming (of course) – and wondered why he'd stopped. Had he changed his mind? He didn't want to see her? That kiss...had it scared him away? Then Steve's face peered around the doorway and they smiled shyly at each other.

"Hi, there," Steve said first.

"Hi..."

* * * * *


	31. Chapter 31

Thirty-One

Steve and Jaime had never felt more like strangers. Neither was sure what to say to other, how to convey the confusion, nervousness and deep emotions that they were both experiencing in spades.

Jaime noticed as soon as he walked in that Steve's entire demeanor had changed. Where he had been confident (even cocky) and joking before, now he was hesitant and almost shy. "They told you...didn't they?" she guessed. (She didn't think she'd ever felt more awkward!)

"Uh...yeah..." he admitted. "They did." Steve felt as though he was facing his first schoolboy crush (which, actually, he was...twenty years later): self-conscious and very, very tongue-tied. "Are you...okay?" he queried.

"Yeah. At least...I think so," Jaime told him. "Are you? Okay, I mean?" _Such scintillating conversation, Jaime!_ she chided herself. _We need to get past this...I just wish I knew how!_ She found herself blushing, in spite of all efforts to stop it. _Well...somebody's gotta break the ice._

"Look," Jaime began tentatively, "about that kiss..."

Steve smiled. "It was a test, right?"

"Um...yeah. But how did you -?"

"I _know_ you," he answered.

"Probably better than I know myself, right now," she agreed.

"So, did I pass?"

"Pass what? Oh...no – I was testing me," Jaime explained. "I wanted to know what it felt like...um...what _**we**_ felt like...and..."

"You're cute when you blush," Steve told her. Jaime giggled and blushed again.

The ice had been broken.

* * *

Oscar made sure that Steve had ample free time to spend with Jaime as she began to truly test her wings. His own visits to the complex grew less frequent, although Rudy knew he could still count on at least one daily phone call from Washington.

Steve and Jaime had entered a new phase: cautiously feeling their way through what seemed like uncharted territory. Jaime spent a lot of time down at the river's edge and Steve found her there several times a day, his instinct letting him know when she wanted to be alone...and when she needed him. This morning, she was sitting with her knees drawn up to her chest, staring out into the water.

"Hi, Pretty Lady," Steve said as he approached. Jaime turned around – and this time her eyes were troubled. "What's on today's agenda?" he asked. "You're awfully deep in thought for so early in the day." He sat down next to her and waited. As always, he knew that Jaime would talk when she was ready, and not one moment sooner.

Jaime leaned toward Steve almost imperceptibly, needing the warmth and safety she was finding she felt whenever she was close to him. Wordlessly, Steve took her hand. "Michael came to see me this morning," she finally told him.

"Oh?" _And what did the little weasel want?_ Steve wondered. He knew that was an unfair thought; Michael had – after all – saved Jaime's life...but he couldn't help feeling jealous and a little bit threatened.

"He and Rudy think they can give me back more of my memory...if I let them operate," she said in a very small voice.

"Well, that's good news...isn't it?"

"Steve, they wanna cut open my _brain!_" Jaime shivered and Steve wrapped an arm around her shoulders, letting her lean into him for support. "I – I don't know if it's worth the risk."

"What else did he tell you? I mean, how certain are they that this could help you – and how dangerous is it?"

"He said they could probably give me at least _some_ of my memory back – but it might be just bits and pieces. It might also be...everything. They just don't know." She shuddered at the thought of what they proposed to do to her. "I want those memories back – I do! - but...I'm really scared. One tiny little slip of the scalpel and I could be paralyzed...or dead. Dead for good, this time! And – and they don't even have to mess up; those things could go wrong all on their own!"

Steve shuddered with her (hoping she couldn't feel it) and tightened his embrace, rubbing her back and just letting her talk.

"I'm sick of being here, Steve!" she told him. "I'm tired of being a patient; I just wanna be a normal person, living a normal life! At least as normal as I can be with electronics where flesh and blood should be! Is that so wrong?"

"Of course not," he soothed. "It sounds awfully risky when the payout isn't even a sure thing."

"Yeah," she sighed, relieved. He'd understood exactly what she was trying to say. "Michael told me to think it over, but -"

"It sounds like you've already decided," Steve concluded.

"Maybe. I guess...I'm not sure. Can I ask you something?"

"Of course," Steve assured her.

"We were almost married. If I was your wife – if this was your decision – what would you do?" Jaime asked.

"If you were my wife, it still wouldn't be my decision; it would be yours," Steve pointed out.

"Steve, please? What if I was your wife and I was unconscious and they told you that you needed to decide...?"

"I'd say that's an entirely different scenario than the one we're in," Steve told her. "Look, Sweetheart, I can't make this choice for you – and like I said, it sounds like you've already made it. But for what it's worth, I agree with you, one hundred percent."

"Thank you. I just wish I knew how to tell them. They mean well – they're trying to help me - and I'm not sure how to tell them 'no'."

"I'll be there with you, if you want me to," Steve offered. The look in Jaime's eyes told him how much she needed him there; an answer wasn't necessary. Instead, Steve cradled her face with his fingertips and kissed her tenderly. Even without the connection they'd once shared, they were quickly becoming an inseparable team.

* * *

Jaime insisted on facing her doctors from across Rudy's desk, rather than from her hospital bed. With Steve beside her, silently giving her strength, she was able to summon her courage and get the words out exactly as she wanted them. "I've decided I don't want the surgery," she told her two very shocked physicians. "I appreciate what you're trying to do, but it's just too risky. Maybe we can keep it in mind as an option for the future, if things don't get any better, but for now I'm doing just fine with what I have. And...I'd like to go home soon."

Rudy nodded. Obviously, her mind was firmly made up. In truth, while he'd hoped they could aid in her memory recovery, the surgery's risks had worried him, too. "Have you decided where you'd like to settle down?" he asked. "Or maybe you'd rather travel for awhile first – just relax and enjoy some downtime?"

Jaime shook her head. "I've had enough downtime for a lifetime," she said emphatically. "I'm hoping Oscar will let me work for him."

"We need to talk about that," Steve injected. Whether they were a formal 'couple' or not, he wasn't comfortable with seeing Jaime sent directly into harm's way. He saw Jaime's jaw begin to set into stubborn mode...and he clarified. "I mean...you need to talk to Oscar about that."

* * *

"Maybe I should move to DC," Jaime told Steve the next morning (after having just beat him at tennis, three games out of three). "That way, Oscar can find me whenever he needs to."

"Have you talked to Oscar about this yet?"

"Well...no...but you work for him. And I'm every bit as good as you are; you said so yourself!"

"Me and my big mouth," Steve grumbled, wrapping her in his arms as they made their way off the court. Per their standing agreement (loser buys the sodas), he put coins into the machine and handed one of the cans to Jaime. "It's not as glamorous as it might look," he told her.

"The soda?" she giggled.

"Working for Oscar. I mean yeah, you travel all over the world and you meet Presidents, Ambassadors and Heads of State -"

"That sounds really awful," Jaime joked.

"You never know for sure if the people you meet are the good guys – or if they wanna stick a knife in your back the first time you turn around. And there could be a bullet with your name on it around any given corner. You just never know. And...I would worry about you," he concluded.

"I can take care of myself," Jaime insisted. "I can fight off any idiot with bad judgment enough to come at me."

"And a sniper's bullet...from a rooftop?"

"That could just as easily happen here," Jaime reasoned. "And I could be kidnapped by someone when I'm walking down the street – if they wanted to steal bionics. So civilian life isn't any safer. And I'm looking out for myself just the same here as I would in Russia, China or Brazil. So if you look at it that way, I've already had a lot of practice."

"You're right."

Jaime grinned and gave him a quick but happy kiss. "I usually am," she replied.

* * * * *


	32. Chapter 32

Thirty-Two

When Oscar heard that Jaime wanted to meet with him, he flew out to California the very next day. While she was busy hoping to impress her potential boss, Rudy summoned Steve to his office.

"What's up, Doc?" Steve cracked. "Sorry; couldn't resist." He shut the door and – on Rudy's invitation – pulled up a chair.

Rudy didn't beat around the bush. "I take it Jaime talked to you – about the surgery – before she made her decision?"

"She talked to me about it," Steve allowed, "but she'd already pretty much made up her mind."

"Can you change it?"

Steve frowned. "Excuse me?"

"Her mind; can you change her mind on this one?" Rudy requested.

"Probably about as much as anyone can change Jaime's mind about anything, once she's set on something," Steve mused. "In other words, not likely." He noticed Rudy's solemn expression – and began to worry. (How could he help but worry, when it came to Jaime?) "What's going on, Doc?"

"I'll admit I wasn't thrilled when Michael first presented the idea of this surgery to me," Rudy explained, "and the risks still concern me, but I gave it a lot of thought overnight – and I think Jaime's making a big mistake."

"In turning it down, you mean?"

"Yes. Jaime has stressed repeatedly her desire to live a full, normal life. While she retains every memory we feed into her, that's no better than what a computer can do. The facts are all there...but the emotions – the feelings – behind those facts are missing."

"I see what you're saying," Steve allowed. "But Jaime's developing new feelings; won't that help? She's gotten close to my Mom and Jim again -"

"And to you."

Steve smiled. "And to me...slowly, but we're making progress."

Rudy nodded. "And while that's wonderful, it isn't enough. Not for you – and certainly not for Jaime. You see, a human being – a 'normal' human being – has a rich emotional past to draw upon in their daily life..."

"And all Jaime has...is facts," Steve concluded, getting it.

"Exactly. I'm concerned that while she says it's enough for her, and it very well could be – for now – she'll come out the other side of all of this an empty shell, bitter and angry because of everything she's missing. That realization might not hit her this week or this year...but it _will_ hit her. She needs this operation, Steve – if she wants to a whole person again, in her heart and soul rather than just in her mind."

"But the operation could fail, right? Or just give her back bits and pieces? That could be even more frustrating than nothing at all. And the risks...I know that technically she's not mine right now, but...I don't wanna lose her," Steve finished quietly.

"I understand your fear – and Jaime's, but Michael is the best in the country at what he does. Quite possibly in the world. This is his specialty. Jaime is strong, she's healthy and she'd be in the best possible hands. Yes, there's always a risk involved, especially with surgery this delicate but you have to weigh the potential benefits against the possible risks and also consider what Jaime's future would be like without it."

"When you put it that way," Steve considered, "I do want her to be happy. That's all I've ever wanted."

"So do you think you can change her mind?" Rudy asked. "Will you talk to her about it?"

"I'll talk to her," Steve promised. He knew that the only way to get Jaime to change her mind was to make her think it had been her choice all along. Would he be able to do that, if her meeting with Oscar went as well as Steve expected it would? Could Jaime even consider putting aside that brand-new life for weeks or even longer – to undergo yet another round of (experimental) surgery?

* * *

Jaime had waited with nervous excitement in the tiny conference room for Oscar to arrive. Once again, reasoning that she was no longer _really_ a patient, she refused to meet in her room when the subject really mattered to her. Oscar had been right on time, looking not the least bit flustered or tired from his cross-country flight. He assessed Jaime with the practiced eye of an Intelligence chief (as well as that of a friend). She looked bright, alert, healthy – and bubbled over with enthusiasm.

Oscar had already spoken with Rudy; he knew that Jaime's release from the complex was imminent; she had decided _against_ the surgery that could have potentially restored her memory. He had offered several times in the past to see to it that Jaime had transport and assistance in getting wherever it was she decided to go – and he assumed that was the purpose of this meeting. He was a little surprised.

"Good morning!" Oscar began, smiling. Somehow, he always found himself smiling at her.

"Hi. Oscar, thank you for flying all the way out here – just to see me."

"It's always a pleasure to see you," Oscar told her. "So...where will my jet be taking you? Paris? London? Dubuque?"

"That depends on you," Jaime said, looking him directly in the eyes without nervousness or fear.

"Me?"

"You know how much I'd like to work for you," she explained. "And I'm healthy now; I'm ready to go."

"Jaime, I -"

"I did a great job in Brazil – you said so yourself -"

"Yes, you did, but -"

"And I guess you could say I was _built_ for this job," Jaime finished brightly. "So when can I start?"

Oscar sighed inwardly. This would be tough, but he had to say it. "Babe, I'm sorry, but with the condition you're in right now, you're just not suited for the job. Besides, you've been through so much; you deserve to relax and enjoy your life, so -"

"Condition? What 'condition' are you talking about?" Jaime was floored.

"Your memory still isn't what it should be," Oscar said gently. "My operatives have to depend on their instincts – and a large part of instinct is past experience, not just on the job but in life. Unfortunately, you don't have that to draw on."

"What are you saying? I had plenty of good instincts when I found Steve in that warehouse – and when I saved your life!"

"Yes, you did. I probably wouldn't be here if you hadn't," he acknowledged. "And I appreciate your drive and your willingness to serve your country. But an operative needs more – an entire lifetime's worth of experience and emotions to draw on in times of crisis. I know it doesn't seem fair to you – and I'm not faulting you in any way here – but you just don't have that. Jaime, I wish..." Oscar hesitated; he didn't know if he really had the right to say this to her, but she clearly needed to hear it. "I just wish you'd agreed to that surgery..."

"What if I changed my mind – and had the surgery?"

"I don't want to pressure you into doing something you've decided against," Oscar told her carefully. "I'm sure you had your reasons, and -"

"Oscar!"

"If you had the surgery and it was a success, you would certainly have more of a background to draw upon when you needed it."

Jaime nodded; she had her answer. (Now what would she do with it...?)

* * *

Steve was still sitting with Rudy in his office, trying to decide the best way to approach Jaime without making her balk, when the door flew open and a very determined Jaime strode into the room.

"I didn't kick it this time," she said, looking back at the door.

"And I appreciate that," Rudy replied.

"But I do need to talk to you – to you too, Steve, because this will hopefully affect you."

Steve looked startled. (What had happened in that meeting with Oscar?) "What is it, Sweetheart?" he asked.

"I changed my mind; I'm having the surgery...and as soon as possible."

* * * * *


	33. Chapter 33

Thirty-Three

Jaime flashed Steve a lopsided grin as the effects of the pre-surgical medication began to hit her. He hovered next to her gurney, holding her hand in both of his own and trying not to let his worry show on his face.

"You're a good friend, Steve," Jaime said in a loopy voice. "More than a friend...even more than a best friend. I'm so glad you're here."

"So am I," Steve said.

"You have such beautiful eyes..." Jaime slurred, still grinning.

"Sweetheart, I think it's time you closed _your_ beautiful eyes," Steve chuckled.

"And you're very handsome, you know..."

"I'll be here when you wake up; I promise."

"Steve?" Jaime blinked rapidly a few times. "I – I'm scared. What if I _don't_ wake up?"

"You will," Steve assured her, brushing the hair from her eyes. "And I'll be right here – right by your side when you do. Okay?"

"K..." she whispered. Jaime's eyes closed, then fluttered open again. "Steve...?"

"What is it, Sweetheart?"

"I...I think...I love you, Steve..."

Before Steve had a chance to respond, the drugs did their work and Jaime was out cold. He kissed her softly and then stepped back and watched as she was wheeled through the double steel doors...into the operating room and (hopefully) into the start of a new, fuller life.

* * *

Jaime's face was pale, her lips nearly the same color as her skin, and her head was swathed in bandages. She had made it through the surgery without any visible complications, but Michael and Rudy couldn't be sure how much – if any – of her memory had been restored until she surfaced from the anesthetic and the postoperative sedation. One or the other of her doctors remained in her room (along with Steve, who was keeping a tense vigil) throughout that night and into the morning.

Lunch time came and went – and still the color had not returned to Jaime's cheeks. Steve pulled Rudy into the hallway, still keeping an eye on Jaime in her bed. "How much longer, Doc?" he asked anxiously.

"She's doing very well," Rudy explained. "We'll be keeping her under sedation for a few more hours, then hopefully we can ease off and she'll start coming around some time before midnight. You could get a few hours of rest yourself before then," he suggested.

"I'm not gonna leave her," Steve insisted.

Rudy didn't figure that he would, but the physician in him had to offer the idea anyway. "Have you eaten anything?" Rudy asked.

"I had some coffee."

"And I repeat: have you eaten anything? I could have the nurse bring up a tray."

"Maybe later."

And so they waited, with Rudy and Michael changing places a few times and then staying in the room together once they'd removed the sedative drip. Oscar poked his head in to check on things every hour or so and brought coffee for Steve (who was still refusing a meal tray). He would not be returning to Washington until he knew where things stood – and that Jaime was alright.

Midnight came and went. The sun rose again and Steve finally accepted a breakfast tray – but even though it had real eggs (cooked just for him) instead of powdered, he couldn't get much past the lump in his throat. He kept remembering the words Jaime had whispered, just before she went under.

_I love you..._ Steve realized that most likely it had been the drugs they'd given her talking, but his heart had soared at hearing it, nonetheless. He'd been cautioned not to expect much response when Jaime first woke up; it would be several days before they could learn the full extent of their success or failure. If she was conscious, oriented and able to answer simple questions at first, that would be an excellent sign.

Finally, just before 11am, Jaime opened her eyes. She looked up at Steve, then at the doctors who leaned over her...then back at Steve. "I'm...sorry..." she whispered in a raspy, post-surgical voice.

"For what, Sweetheart?" he asked gently. (Was she even fully awake?)

"For dumping sand over your head..."

Three worried men broke into three relieved grins; Jaime was going to be okay.

* * *

She drifted in and out for the rest of the day, but every time Jaime surfaced, Steve's face was smiling down at her. Little snippets kept floating across her mind when she was somewhere between asleep and awake: batting tennis balls with Steve when they were teenagers...building a tree house together when Jaime was still rather young to be up in a tree (but what her parents didn't know wouldn't hurt them...or Jaime!)...spending most holidays with both families merging into one big, happy familial unit...and Steve's gentle reassurances as he helped her search for her dog when he'd broken free of his leash.

"Puzzles!" she exclaimed, having to be gently restrained by Steve from sitting upright in the bed.

"You want me to bring you some puzzles?" Steve offered, easing her back against the pillows.

"No! The dog – my dog – his name was Puzzles!" With a proud, happy half-smile, Jaime drifted back to sleep.

* * *

By the next morning, she was asking to get out of bed. "I need you to stay flat on your back for another 24 hours," Rudy told her gently. "And in bed for a few days after that." Upon hearing Jaime's disappointed sigh, he continued. "You've just had major, _major_ surgery, Honey. Better to err on the side of caution."

"He's right, you know," Steve told her. He was rewarded by the sight of Jaime sticking out her tongue...just for him. "It won't be so bad," he soothed. "You'll sleep for a lot of it -"

"Says who?" she retorted...but in truth, her eyelids did feel rather heavy. Without any more of an argument (but with a tender kiss from Steve as he saw her beginning to drowse), Jaime was out like a light.

The dreams were more than snippets now. As Jaime slept, she watched her high school graduation (in vivid technicolor) with her parents and the Elgins sitting proudly in the bleachers...along with Steve, of course. He looked so handsome in his brand-new Air Force dress uniform!

She saw herself glued to her television, unable to look away as the NASA countdown reached lift-off and Steve was rocketed into space. She'd blown off an important tennis meet to watch him make his very first walk on the moon's surface...to hear his voice beamed all the way back down to NASA (and out through her television)...and to know that he was okay...so very far from home.

Jaime saw her parents, too: the way that even when she was being punished, they still made certain she knew she was the apple of their eyes. One or the other (and usually both) were at Jaime's every school concert, every tennis match, regardless of the hoops they'd have had to jump through to allow them to be there. And now, after so many years, Jaime was finally seeing it all – and even in her dreams she could once again feel the warmth of her parents' loving embrace.

* * *

After her doctor-and-Steve-enforced 24 hours of complete rest, Jaime was becoming a little harder to contain. She was still very weak (and she knew it) but she was now allowed to sit up in bed propped by a stack of pillows and it was such a short movement from that position to swing her legs over the side and...

"Don't even think about it," Steve told her.

"I wasn't really gonna do it," Jaime qualified.

"Yeah, well, you sure fooled me then." He placed the errant ankles back into their required positions (at the end of the bed) and kissed her for good measure. "As much as I like holding you, I'd prefer not to scoop you up off the floor."

"You would though."

"In a heartbeat," Steve confirmed. "Then I'd have to report you to your doctors for insubordination."

"You'd tell on me?" Jaime teased. "You didn't even tattle when I hit the baseball through Mrs. McCloskey's picture window; you took the blame yourself."

Steve was startled...and overjoyed. This was his confirmation that she was gaining not just snippets but full and complete memories. "The better you follow doctors' orders now," he said simply, "the sooner you can be back out kicking my butt at tennis. And the sooner you can go home."

"Home...I like that word..." Once again, Jaime was fast asleep.

She woke up talking of tree houses and vacations by the lake – surpassing even the high hopes of her doctors. Steve stepped out of the room so Rudy and Michael could check her over; he had something he needed to do in the meantime.

"I brought you something," Steve told Jaime after the doctors had examined their patient.

"You mean, besides the flowers, the teddy bear and the balloons?" Jaime asked. (Since the surgery, Steve had been flooding her room with presents both big and small in an effort to keep her spirits up. Oscar had brought flowers, too.)

"Yup. And I think you'll like this even better," he told her. With the help of a few of Jaime's nurses, he'd put together a folder full of pictures of different cities Jaime might choose to live in. The arched promenade of downtown Ojai was at the very top of the pile.

* * * * *


	34. Chapter 34

Thirty-Four

"He's _still_ not gonna let me work for him!" Jaime pouted, tossing another stone into the river. She had very little else to pout about; she'd been allowed out of her bed less than a week after her surgery and was already enjoying the feel of fresh air on her face (albeit from a wheelchair for a little while longer).

"He just wants to give you a chance to get settled first," Steve told her, handing her another stone.

"I think I'm gonna go to Ojai," Jaime announced. "Not a big place, but room enough that I could maybe have Dancer back."

She remembered that he'd been her horse! "He's yours," Steve confirmed. "But until you can take him, he's always got a home."

"A good one, too," Jaime agreed. "Maybe...I can find somewhere close to that home," she added shyly. Just about the only 'new' memories she had yet to reveal to Steve were the ones that swirled around her mind in regards to the two of them. She dreamed about him at night and during the rare times they were apart in the day...she still thought about him. But was she in love with him – or only remembering what that love had once felt like? She wished she could know for certain, one way or the other.

"I'd like that," Steve was saying. He waved his hand in front of her face. "Earth to Jaime; permission to land in this stratosphere is granted." He knelt beside her wheelchair and brushed a hand across her cheek. You were a million miles away there for a second. Where'd you go?"

"Something else Oscar said," Jaime told him. (Well, it was the other thing on her mind, apart from her feelings for Steve...which she just wasn't ready to talk about yet.) "Everybody thinks I died."

"I know."

"Oscar has a plan he says will help me get back into the world again...without too many questions."

Steve had known a plan was in the works but hadn't been filled in yet; he was more than curious. "What'd he say? What's Oscar's plan?"

"He's gonna tell people that I had my accident _after_ we got engaged...and that they searched for days but couldn't find me," Jaime explained.

"Okay...and?"

"And somebody else did find me but they didn't know who I was. So – this is what we're supposed to tell people – I was in some out of the way hospital in a coma...as a Jane Doe."

"That could work," Steve agreed. "Mom and Dad will have to stick to it, too, though."

Jaime nodded. "We all will."

* * *

The new deception – the first to actually include Jaime – was set in motion almost immediately with several small but well-placed newspaper articles describing what had 'happened'. She would need to lie low for awhile longer, which worked well, since she still needed time to recuperate.

"I'm gonna have nightmares over this," Jaime declared, staring at her now-retracted obituary. "Was there...a grave, too?"

Steve cradled her body with one arm and removed the obit from her hands. "Sweetheart, you really don't need -"

"Steve, stop trying to shield me! Besides, if I'm going back to Ojai, I'm gonna find out anyway!" Jaime shivered, in spite of her determination to hear the answer. "There is, isn't there? I guess there'd have to be a grave. And...a funeral."

"We removed the empty casket and the marker and had new grass planted," Oscar told her, "as soon as the articles were published."

"There was a _casket?_" Jaime moaned softly, closed her eyes and laid back in the bed, grateful that this discussion was taking place in her room. Rudy had judged correctly that it might be disturbing to her and strongly advised that his patient remain in bed.

Upon hearing Jaime's voice rise in distress, Rudy came in from the hallway and declared the meeting over. Jaime was just barely over one week post-surgery and she'd clearly had enough. Oscar and Steve stepped back from the bed but Steve's eyes stayed locked with Jaime's as the doctor checked her over.

"I'll check on what's being said in the press tonight and I'll be back tomorrow," Oscar promised. "You rest now, Babe."

"Thank you," Jaime told him weakly. In spite of the revulsion she felt at discussing her own supposed death and burial, she knew how hard he was working to ensure her safe return to society...and she appreciated it deeply.

"Are you staying awhile?" Rudy asked Steve (who raised an eyebrow at him in reply). "Dumb question," the doctor acknowledged. "Young lady," he said to Jaime, "I want you to stay in bed for the rest of the day. Your vitals are a little unsteady." He turned to Steve. "This may have been too much, too soon, but if you can keep her from getting up – _make_ her rest – she'll be fine."

Jaime flashed a little pout. "Rudy...?"

"_Stay in bed,_" the doctor told her. "Call me if she gives you any trouble," he said to Steve.

Steve tipped an imaginary hat and said in his smoothest Southern drawl, "Not to worry there, Doc. I reckons I can handle this here beautiful filly jus' fine."

When Rudy was gone, Steve sat down on the edge of the bed and kissed Jaime softly, his lips lingering for a few extra moments. Jaime reached up and hugged him, holding on tightly, letting him know how overwhelmed she felt (without needing to say a word). Steve held her to his chest until he felt Jaime's grasp begin to relax, then he eased her back down and tucked the blanket around her body.

"I bet I'm the first person in history to talk about their own funeral – after the fact," she said in an attempt at levity.

"That had to be hard to hear," he replied, "and to talk about."

"Yeah...it was." Jaime's eyes grew distant; Steve could tell there was more on her mind. He waited, holding her hand and connecting with her through their eyes. "Steve...?" she finally said. "Does it hurt you...being here with me? I mean, just being so patient and not knowing if it'll ever pay off or -"

"It pays off every time I see you smile," he said honestly.

"You know what I mean. I hate what I must be putting you through, feeling the way I know you feel – 'cause I can see it in your eyes – and not knowing how I feel because sometimes I don't even know that myself..." Jaime knew she was babbling, but the flood of words just kept coming. "I wish I could promise you everything that we promised each other before but I'm not even sure where I'm gonna be a year from now, or what I'll be doing. I just hope that whatever it is...I'll be doing it with you."

Steve opened his mouth to say he had absolutely no problem with that idea...but Jaime wasn't done yet. "See, I know now what we used to have," she told him (very softly). "I'm not sure about my own future right now – much less _our_ future – but maybe someday we'll have that again. I just don't know if 'maybe' is enough for you...or even if it's fair to you at all!"

Steve was stunned. Up until that point, he'd had no idea how much of their past had been returned to Jaime's conscious mind. "Jaime, I -"

"Steve, you've been by my side all this time while I've practiced at being a professional patient. I know how strong what we had together was – and now I understand how it got that strong. You're the kindest, gentlest, most loving man I know and while it might not be nearly enough...I'm falling in love with you."

They were the most beautiful words Steve thought he'd ever heard – and there was only one possible response. He swept Jaime into his arms, movie-star-style, for a kiss filled with promise, passion...and hope.

* * *

If they had been inseparable before then, Steve and Jaime now seemed joined at the hip. They talked of the past (now that no subject was off-limits), of the present (more specifically how badly Jaime wanted _out_ of there) and of the future that they were finally both able to begin believing they might just spend together.

They'd browsed Ojai's local paper and found a house that Jaime had deemed perfect. It was small but cozy, with a wonderful kitchen, a bedroom and a guest room, a fireplace - and a barn and pasture where they'd arranged for a corral to be built and waiting for its new occupant. Oscar had agreed that Steve would be spending at least a couple of weeks in Ojai, helping Jaime fix the place up and get settled in, before Oscar called him back into service again.

Finally, the last of the bandages came off and Jaime began to pack her bags. "I know it'll be a few days yet," she said, "but I've waited so long. I'm savoring it. Steve, I'm going _**home**__!_"

* * * * *


	35. Chapter 35

Thirty-Five

The ride to Ojai was easier this time – more comfortable for both Steve and Jaime. Instead of trying to make awkward small talk (the way they had just weeks earlier), Jaime found herself babbling her excitement while Steve grinned at her enthusiasm. "I think I'll get a dog," she exulted, "or maybe a kitten. Maybe both! And Oscar said once I've had a few weeks to get used to things, he'll fly out and talk to me about going to work...if I still want to. But how could I not want to?"

Steve had to chuckle. "Once you get started, you might wish you hadn't..."

"Oh, I know it won't be fun and games – but it'll be so exciting! And useful! I'll get to be useful again, Steve!"

"That's one way to look at it," he allowed. "I just wish you'd think about a less dangerous job – like tightrope walking."

"Steve..."

"Or cliff diving."

"Steve!"

"How 'bout window washer for the Empire State Building?"

"_Steve!_"

"I talked to Mom this morning," he said, changing the subject. "She said your utilities are on, the corral is built; everything's ready to go."

"All I need is furniture, food, pots and pans, dishes..." Jaime mused

"She also said you can stay with them if you're not comfortable staying in my guest room."

Jaime couldn't imagine _not_ being comfortable with him. "Your guest room is perfect...unless you aren't comfortable..."

"You're kidding, right?" Steve chuckled. "And I promise...I'll behave."

"Damn," Jaime laughed. She watched the now-familiar scenery go by as she thought about how it would be if Steve _didn't_ behave himself – and she thought she felt herself blush. "It'll be so exciting, getting all new things; it's like starting a brand-new life!" she said as they neared the outskirts of Ojai. "And seeing all my old friends again...except that'll be kinda weird, too..." her voice trailed off as she noticed people on the street turning to stare as they drove by.

Steve saw it, too...and noted that Jaime had suddenly grown quiet. "It'll get easier," he promised.

Jaime nodded. "You'd think they've never seen anyone come back from the dead before."

Steve knew (more so than Jaime) that this was, indeed, a big deal. The local paper hadn't been the only one to carry the story; major newspapers scattered around the country were speculating on Jaime's potential return to the tennis circuit. And in Ojai, the return of a local heroine – not to mention the fact that she'd been 'dead' – had been the headline for several days running. Clearly, people had noticed. Rudy and Oscar had wisely timed Jaime's release to allow the initial furor to die down, and Steve hoped that the worst he'd have to shield her from were the local gossip mongers.

They would return to the swing of things gradually – and Steve had planned just the right way to ease Jaime's way. She thought they'd be having dinner at Jim and Helen's, then stopping to see her new place before going to Steve's for the night. "Maybe we should stop by your place first," he suggested (as though it were a spur-of-the-moment idea).

"But Mom and Dad are expecting us – and I can't wait to see them," Jaime protested. For now, it was an empty house and she'd seen all of the pictures; she hadn't seen Jim and Helen since the first visit back to Ojai (which already seemed like a lifetime ago, instead of just a few weeks). They spoken often by phone, but with Jaime's memories returning more and more each day, she couldn't wait to hug the couple who'd raised her from the age of 16.

"We don't have to stay long, but wouldn't you like at least a peek while it's still daylight? Then you can talk to Helen all night about color schemes and decorating...and all that women's stuff." He glanced sideways at Jaime. Was she buying it?

"Okay," she agreed. "But just a quick look around."

Steve flashed her a smile and soon they turned onto the quiet side road near the park where Jaime's house waited at the end. The outside of the house needed a coat of fresh paint, but they'd known that – and the old paint was barely visible beneath a huge banner that covered the front of the house:

_Welcome Home, Jaime!_

Beneath it stood the two people Jaime was in the biggest hurry to see: Helen and Jim Elgin. They beamed as Jaime opened the car door and ran to them with her arms open before Steve had a chance to put the car into Park. The three-way hug became a four-way hug and it was several minutes before Helen stepped back and said "I'll bet you'd like to have a look around."

They went inside – and Jaime had been right. It would be a charming home once it was furnished, but she had seen all of these rooms in the pictures. She stopped as her ear picked up the sounds of muffled voices and something else...horse hooves pawing the dirt! Jaime looked curiously at Steve, who shrugged. "Better check it out," he suggested, stifling a grin.

Jaime stepped out the back door and saw the old picnic table covered with a festive gingham cloth...and tendrils of smoke rising from a barbecue grill. Dancer called to her from the newly-built corral and Jaime rushed to greet her horse before turning a questioning eye toward her family.

"We thought you might like to have dinner here, at your own place," Jim told her. He opened the grill top and looked inside. "Darn if I didn't put on a few too many steaks, though," he groused. "Hope you're good and hungry."

"We can help with that!" a voice called. Jaime's eyes filled with joyful tears as her best friends from grade school – Jules and Susan – rounded the side of the house and set a bowl of potato salad and a big chocolate cake on the table before running to embrace their friend.

"I'm hungry, too!" Mrs. McCloskey came from the other direction with a bowl of cole slaw in one hand and her other hand gripping the leash of a very special guest.

"_Puzzles!_" Jaime cried happily, embracing her former neighbor and then kneeling to accept wet, sloppy kisses from the beloved old dog. Steve offered his hand to help her up and she threw both of her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek. "Did you know about this?"

Steve shrugged innocently. "Must've been the housewarming fairies. C'mon – let's eat!"

* * *

"I had a wonderful day today," Jaime sighed as she curled up next to Steve on the sofa.

"I'm glad." He enfolded her in his arms and Jaime rested her head on his shoulder as they watched the flames flicker in the fireplace. "You ready for tomorrow?"

Jaime made a face. They'd be heading into town tomorrow to start shopping for furniture and necessities. Jaime knew from the stares as they'd driven through town what she might be facing – and she wasn't looking forward to it. She'd told Steve she wanted to get settled as soon as possible; hopefully before the end of the week...but she was beginning to change her mind. It was like standing at the very edge of a giant abyss: one wrong move would send them toppling but slow, easy steps would take them safely where they needed to go.

"Can we take a day and just relax first, maybe go to the lake and have a picnic?" she requested.

"Anything you want, Sweetheart," Steve promised. "Your wish is my command."

Jaime lifted her head with a mischievous grin. "Can I have that in writing?"

* * * * *


	36. Chapter 36

Thirty-Six

It was a beautiful day. The sky was so clear and blue that it seemed to sparkle...with not a hint of clouds. Jaime puttered happily around Steve's kitchen, getting the feel for where everything was as she put the finishing touches on a couple of omelets for their breakfast. (Steve had decided to waive his usual 'guests don't help out here' rule, enabling him to keep his eye on her – for her safety...and because watching her made him smile.)

"Beautiful," he said, wrapping his arms around Jaime's waist as she slid the omelets onto their plates. (He wasn't looking at the eggs.) "You're a better cook than I am," he had to admit when he took his first bite.

"I know," Jaime said lightly. "Always have been."

Steve was still amazed at the tiny snippets of the past that kept popping up at unexpected times. Now that the 'short circuits' in her memory had been righted again (at least, as much as they could be), these thoughts seemed to come as naturally to her as observations about the weather. Every new revelation delighted Steve and made his heart swell with hope.

"Still not gonna give you my Mom's cookie recipe, though," she laughed. "So don't ask. I baked a batch for our picnic," she added.

Steve smiled. "Can I at least make the sandwiches?"

* * *

The park by the lake wasn't busy, but it wasn't empty, either...and of course, they were recognized. Thankfully, the first person to approach them was a tennis fan with the right attitude. He didn't stare or turn away; he smiled and came directly to them.

"It's awful what happened to you," he told Jaime. "But I'm so glad you're okay. Good to see you, too, Colonel Austin," he acknowledged. Politely, he shook both Jaime's and Steve's hand and then was gone. (Steve wished that all of their encounters would go that smoothly, but he knew better.)

He let Jaime lead the way and once they reached the lake, she made a beeline for their old, favorite fallen tree and spread her blanket at its roots. (Did she remember...or was it just a lucky choice?)

"I'm surprised this old guy is still here," she said to Steve. "They probably haven't cleared it out 'cause it makes such a great bench. We sure had a lot of good long talks here, huh?"

She _did_ remember! "A lot of fun, too," Steve agreed.

"I don't remember much...about being here last month," she continued (answering another question on Steve's mind).

"Maybe that's for the best," he told her. "You were awfully sick."

"Thank you...for finding me, I mean." Jaime turned to look out at the water. "It still looks the same as it did all those years ago – except the trees are taller." She sighed contentedly and started spreading their feast out on the blanket. While Steve had still been asleep, she had prepared deviled eggs, a simple carrot-raisin salad and Steve's (and her own) favorite chocolate chip/pecan cookies. She made a special point of praising Steve's turkey sandwiches (double-decker, no less!) because after all, he'd made an effort, too.

Of course, Steve reached for a cookie as soon as they were out of the basket, eagerly took a bite and felt himself swoon. Jaime was definitely wife material...but he'd always known that. Maybe someday...

"Almost as good as your Mom's," he said with a mouthful of cookie.

"Almost? _Almost_, Austin?" Jaime slugged him playfully and took the half-eaten cookie from his hand. She laughed and held the cookie just out of his reach.

Steve shrugged. "There's more on the plate," he chuckled. Quickly, Jaime moved the plate away from him, too. "I'm willing to tickle for those, if necessary," he warned.

"You wouldn't! Not for 'almost as good' cookies!" Jaime giggled.

"Okay. Alright – I'm sorry. They're the best cookies I've ever tasted – and I won't open my big mouth again...except for another cookie."

"That's better," she said, setting the plate back down on the blanket. They laughed together and their eyes met as they felt an almost visible spark pass between them.

A young boy's voice broke the spell far too soon. "Wow – what's it feel like to be dead?"

Jaime tried not to flinch. She recognized him as a student she'd given a tennis lesson to the previous summer. Steve sensed her discomfort and fielded the question. "She was never 'dead', son; we only thought she was. And we're so happy that she's okay now – aren't we?"

The boy nodded, his eyes still wide. "But...my Mom says she went to your funeral. She saw your grave. So you must've been dead. Dead and buried -"

Thankfully, the boy's mother called him away before he could say any more. Steve turned to Jaime (who had grown very quiet) and took her hand. "That's probably the worst thing you'll ever have to hear said about this. It only gets easier from here," he promised.

"Does it?"

"The kid has probably never seen a newspaper and he just heard parts of a conversation. He misunderstood. But I'm so sorry you had to hear that."

"Steve, I don't know if I can do this," Jaime said softly. "I mean, the first time someone questions the story...and I froze."

"You _can_ do this," Steve affirmed. "You _are_ doing it! It takes time, but people will stop talking and just accept it. They'll move on to the next subject to gossip about and they'll just be glad to have you back. Like I am."

Jaime felt like the abyss had somehow grown blacker and even further-reaching than before...and she was losing her foothold. She looked more deeply into Steve's eyes, wishing she could draw upon his strength when she felt this way. He read her silent plea and moved across the blanket to hold her. As she leaned into him, he thought he felt her shiver. More than anything, he wished he could shield her from what she'd be facing as she re-entered 'real life', but at least he knew he'd be right there by her side, guiding her through it.

Suddenly, Jaime lifted her head from his shoulder. "Maybe instead of side-stepping this, I need to face it head-on!" she told him.

"I'm...not following you, Sweetheart."

Jaime's eyes were resolute now, void of any fear and filled with determination. "Steve...I wanna see my grave!"

* * *

"She's still insisting she wants to see it," Steve told Rudy on the phone (while Jaime was taking a shower). "First thing tomorrow, she says."

"Well, I don't think that's a good idea," Rudy replied. "Not yet."

"Short of physically restraining her, got any suggestions, Doc?"

Rudy sighed deeply as he pondered. "It's a short enough drive down there. I'll drop by just after breakfast, saying I need to check her over, now that she's out in the world."

"That'll stall her for an hour or two. What then?" Steve wondered.

"We'll figure it out," Rudy told him. _I hope..._

* * * * *


	37. Chapter 37

Thirty-Seven

Steve had set his alarm to wake him early the next morning...but he didn't need it. He was wide awake in time to see the sun rise – and to smell the aroma of cinnamon wafting through the house. Sure enough, there was a plate of fresh cinnamon rolls on the kitchen table...along with a note.

_Good morning! Thought I'd take Dancer for a little ride before breakfast Be back soon. Jaime._

Steve flew out the back door, hoping to find Jaime cantering the horse around the corral. No Jaime, no Dancer. _Dammit!_ he cursed silently. _She wouldn't...would she?_ She still hadn't been told where the former grave actually was, but she was definitely smart (and determined) enough to ask someone. Very likely, anyone she met would be able to tell her. He thought about leaving a note for Rudy, but there was no time. The sun was barely coming up, but with his eye he was still able to scan the meadow, the long driveway and the trail into town, with no luck. He turned toward the hillside above the park – and there she was. Steve's heart flooded with relief and finally began to beat normally again.

Jaime was sitting at the highest point on the hill (the horse beside her), watching the sunrise. Steve took a few calming breaths before heading up the hill to join her. She really hadn't done anything wrong and he didn't want her to see that he'd been worried or upset.

Of course, Jaime heard him coming and turned around to greet him with a radiant smile. "It's so beautiful up here!" she exulted. "I can see the sun coming up over the lake...and the reflection of the colors in the water...I just love it!"

"You'll be able to come up here every day, if you want to" Steve told her as he sat down beside her. Her house was just down the hill to the left. "But right now, I'll bet you're getting hungry..."

"IS that a subtle hint, Austin?" she giggled. "I can hear your stomach growling, ya know."

"I'll even cook something for you. What would you like: Eggs Benedict, Country-Fried Steak, maybe a little -"

"How 'bout if I cook instead?" Jaime offered.

"Well...since you're insisting..." He leaned over for a good morning kiss – one that lasted until the sun was fully above the water line. "We'd better head back," he sighed, hating to end the moment.

"And after breakfast..." Jaime reminded him.

"I know," he answered. He couldn't tell her she'd be seeing Rudy after breakfast because it was 'supposed' to be as much of a surprise to him as it was to her. "But sustenance comes first, right?"

"You got a deal."

* * *

"You _really_ know how to cook Eggs Benedict?" Jaime asked as she stirred cheese into their scrambled eggs.

"Well...I know it has eggs in it," Steve offered.

"Then why -?" Jaime laughed.

Steve shrugged. "It sounded good. I do know how to make Country-Fried Steak, though."

"Only 'cause I taught you."

"Yeah...you're right," Steve acknowledged.

"I usually am."

Steve couldn't argue with _that_. His eyes were on Jaime as he buttered the toast and poured the juice. She was smiling and to all outward appearances seemed serene...but he could read her eyes. She was troubled – and who wouldn't be, thinking about visiting their own grave?

"How'd you sleep?" he asked as they sat down at the table. _Hurry up, Rudy!_

"Okay..." Jaime was feigning a sudden and burning interest in her plate of eggs.

"Really? You're gonna try and make me believe that...how?"

"Well...I...guess I was overtired. Or not tired enough, or...something."

They spent breakfast talking about the sunrise, the horses, the weather – everything except what was most on both of their minds. Right on cue, as they were placing their dishes in the sink, the doorbell rang. Jaime looked up questioningly.

Steve shrugged. "Maybe Mom needs to borrow some milk." Since his back was to the kitchen (and to Jaime) when he opened the door, he winked at the doctor. "Rudy! What are you doing here? C'mon in and have some coffee; it's great to see you!"

"I thought I'd check on Jaime, now that she's been out and about for a couple of days," Rudy announced. "Is she up yet?"

"We just had breakfast. There's cinnamon rolls left if you want some," Steve told him. "Sweetheart!" Steve called into the kitchen. It wasn't necessary. Jaime was already right behind him and grinning as she reached out to give Rudy a hug.

"You didn't have to come all this way -"

"It was less than an hour – and a beautiful drive," Rudy insisted.

"Want me to get lost for awhile?" Steve offered.

Rudy looked to Jaime, who shook her head. "I don't think that's necessary," he answered for both of them. "I will take you up on the coffee, though." The doctor led his patient into the den. Jaime sat down on the sofa, curling her legs beneath herself, and Rudy chose the easy chair next to her.

"So," he began, "tell me how it's been going."

"You just saw me two days ago!" Jaime chuckled.

"A lot can happen in two days." Like Steve, Rudy noticed the darkness in her eyes that her smile couldn't hide. "How are you feeling?"

"Are you taking my physical temperature," Jaime queried. "or my emotional one?"

"Maybe a little of both," Rudy admitted. "What's on your agenda for today?"

Steve handed Rudy a mug of coffee and sank down beside Jaime, who seemed to automatically lean toward him. "I'm taking her appliance shopping, Doc," he said lightly. "We thought we'd start with the big stuff and work our way down. Furniture next, if there's time."

"Something else we have to do first," Jaime reminded him.

"Oh?" Rudy asked.

"Steve promised to show me my grave."

"Uh-huh..." the doctor said, pretending to mull this over. "I don't really think there's anything left there to look at, Honey. Why would you want to -"

"I just wanna see it. I _need_ to see it!"

Steve felt her shudder a bit, the way she always seemed to when talking about this subject. Instinctively, he pulled her closer. "She didn't sleep much last night, Doc."

"Oh?" Rudy questioned.

"I was...thinking," Jaime explained.

"About this?"

"Yeah," she admitted.

Rudy frowned with concern. "Can you tell me why this is so important to you, when it clearly troubles you so deeply?"

"I guess...I need _closure_," Jaime told him. "Sort of like I'm saying goodbye to my old life – burying it – and starting all over again, fresh."

"And you can't do that without a trip to the cemetery?" Steve asked.

"Not _really_. Not for good, Steve. I mean yeah, it creeps me out. I might even get sick; I don't know. But the only way to really deal with everything that's happened to me is to face it – _all_ of it. I can't move forward until I do that," Jaime pleaded, looking from one man to the other, hoping for understanding. Surprisingly, she found it.

"You're right," Rudy acknowledged, shocking himself as well as Steve. "Steve, she makes a good point. If that's what Jaime feels she needs in order to heal, then we both need to support her. I'll go with you."

* * * * * 


	38. Chapter 38

Thirty-Eight

Jaime was silent as Steve drove down the long, winding driveway and headed toward the center of town. Rudy sat in the back – on Steve's side so he could watch Jaime without being too obvious. Both men knew they couldn't begin to understand what Jaime was feeling about this unique experience.

"I need to stop at the florist's on the way," Jaime requested. "I wanna visit my parents before...you know." If she noticed the look that passed in the rearview between the driver and the backseat passenger, she didn't remark on it.

"Want me to go in for you?" Steve offered, pulling up to the curb. Jaime nodded gratefully. He knew without having to ask that she needed two bouquets of yellow roses. While Steve was in the store, Rudy used the time to try and counsel his frightened (but very determined) patient.

"You don't have to do this, Honey," he said gently.

"Yes...I do. I _need_ to do this," Jaime insisted.

"Maybe eventually, but no one would fault you if you didn't feel up to it just yet. Maybe it would be easier in a few more days...or even a week or two."

Jaime shook her head. "It's only gonna get harder! People talk, Rudy – and I can't expect them not to! I mean, how many times do you run into someone on the street six months after attending their funeral? I can't deal with their questions unless I've dealt with my own first. Besides, the more upfront I can be about all of this, the less likely people are to think about it harder, do the math and figure out that Uncle Sam got a little creative with the dates." Jaime took a deep breath and shivered. "I had a nightmare about this last night," she finally admitted, "and that's why I didn't sleep much. But I think nightmares are issues we're too afraid to face in 'normal' life...so I have to deal with this. And I'm as ready as I'm gonna get."

"If you change your mind..."

"I'll wave a white flag and go running for the car."

* * *

When Steve parked the car just outside the cemetery gates, Jaime remained frozen in the passenger's seat, clutching a bouquet in each hand, for a few minutes while she gathered herself and tried to find her courage.

"Sweetheart," Steve began, "there's something you need to know about...the grave." (If she planned to visit her parents' graves first, she should at least be warned.)

"Tell me after I see my parents," Jaime insisted, pulling on the door handle and stepping out of the car. Steve followed, giving Jaime a little space, and Rudy walked a few steps behind him. Jaime walked straight through the rows and up to her parents' graves. Steve and Rudy exchanged an anxious glance. (Did she notice...?)

Yes, she did. Jaime walked to the foot of the graves, moving toward the spot where she usually stood – directly between them – and her foot froze in mid-air. She took one horrified little hop backward and Steve held his arms out because it seemed for a moment like she might faint or fall. Jaime wobbled but stood her ground, staring at what had always been unused space between her mother and her father. The grass had been so carefully sodded over that it was hard to tell it had ever been disturbed, but the difference was glaring to Jaime. The very slight indentation in the ground at the head of the space (where a heavy stone would've been placed) looked to her like the start of the abyss. She felt herself teeter and stepped forward involuntarily, as though reclaiming the space.

"This...is _**it**_..." she whispered. (It wasn't a question.) While she couldn't really feel the earth beneath her feet, Jaime felt like a million tiny electric needles were stabbing her all at once. For a few moments, she couldn't see. _This is it,_ she thought wildly, _the abyss has won. It's over._ She staggered forward again, nearly dropping the flowers. It would be so easy to just let go and lose control...but she struggled to stay focused. If she lost it, there might be no coming back.

_I can do this!_ she insisted to herself, one more time. Her head spun and her mind swirled with confusion. In her mind's eye, her toes were already over the edge...

Steve's gentle touch on her arm drew her back to reality. Suddenly, her head cleared and Jaime could see again. "I'm...alright," she said softly. She pulled one flower out of each bouquet, then laid the bouquets in front of her parents' headstones. The two single roses, she let fall gently from her hands onto the soil as she took Steve's hand and stepped away from the abyss...and into her brand-new life.

**END**


End file.
